UNIV,  PF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LC3  ANGELES 


THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 


A  Universal- Jewel  Production. 

"  I  LIKE  A  MAN  WITH  INTELLIGENCE 
GOOD  LOOKS." 


The  Ramblin?  Ktd. 
AND  AMBITION  AND 


THE   RAMBLIN' 
KID 


BY 

EARL  WAYLAND   BOWMAN 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  SCENES 

FROM  THE  PHOTOPLAY 

A  UNIVERSAL  PICTURE 

STARRING    HOOT   GIBSONS 


feoSS 


GROSSET    &    DUN LAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 

Made  ia  the  United  States  of  America 


COPYRIGHT  1920 
THK  FRANK  A    MUNSEY  COMPANY 

COFYBIGHT    1920 

THE  BOBES-MEHRILL  COMPAXT 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  A  NIGHT  LETTER 1 

II  A  BLUFF  CALLED 9 

III  WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH 22 

IV  THE  UNUSED  PLATE 41 

V  A  DUEL  OF  ENDURANCE 57 

VI  YOU'RE  A  BRUTE 74 

VII  THE  GSEEDY  SANDS 91 

VIII  QUICK  WITH  A  VENGEANCE Ill 

IX  OLD  HECK'S  STRATEGY 125 

X  FIXING    FIXERS        139 

XI  A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE 153 

XII  YOU'LL  GET  YOUR  WISH 171 

XIII  THE  ELITE  AMUSEMENT  PARLOR 187 

XIV  THE  GRAND  PARADE 202 

XV  MOCHA  AND  JAVA 220 

XVI  THE  SWEEPSTAKES 229 

XVII  OLD  HECK  GOES  TO  TOWN 248 

XVIII  A  SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT 263 

XIX  THE  GREEK  GETS  His 280 

XX  MOSTLY  SKINNY 298 

XXI  A  GIRL  LIKE  You  309 


2125958 


THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 


THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

CHAPTER  I 

A  NIGHT  LETTER 

SAND  and  gravel  slithered  and  slid  under  the 
heels  of  Old  Pie  Face  as  Skinny  Rawlins 
whirled  the  broncho  into  the  open  space  in  front  of 
the  low-built,  sprawling,  adobe  ranch  house  of  the 
Quarter  Circle  KT  and  reined  the  pinto  to  a  sudden 
stop.  Skinny  had  been  to  Eagle  Butte  and  with 
other  things  brought  back  the  mail.  It  was  hot,  late 
June,  the  time  between  cutting  the  first  crop  of  al- 
falfa and  gathering,  from  the  open  range,  the  beef 
steers  ready  for  the  summer  market.  Regardless 
of  the  heat  Skinny  had  ridden  hard  and  his  horse 
was  a  lather  of  sweat.  A  number  of  cowboys 
lounged,  indolently,  in  the  shade  of  the  bunk-house, 
smoking  cigarettes  and  contentedly  enjoying  the 
hour  of  rest  after  the  noon-day  dinner.  Another, 
lean-built,  slender,  boyish  in  appearance  and  with 
strangely  black,  inscrutable  eyes,  stepped  from 
around  the  corner  of  the  house  as  Skinny  jerked 
Old  Pie  Face  to  a  standstill. 

1 


2  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Where's  Old  Heck?"  Skinny  asked  excitedly. 
"I  brought  the  mail — here,  take  it  to  him!" 

The  other,  known  on  the  Kiowa  and  the  range 
of  western  Texas  and  Mexico  only  as  "the  Ramblin' 
Kid,"  strolled  leisurely  out  through  the  sagging, 
weight-swung  gate  and  up  to  the  panting  horse  from 
which  Skinny  had  not  yet  dismounted. 

"Asleep,  I  reckon,"  he  replied  in  a  voice  pecul- 
iarly low  and  deliberate,  " — what's  your  spontane- 
ousness  about?  You  act  like  a  special  d'livery  or 
somethin'." 

"Old  Heck's  got  a  letter,"  Skinny  said,  jerkily; 
"maybe's  it's  bad  newrs  an'  he  ought  to  have  it 
quick,"  as  the  Ramblin'  Kid  reached  for  a  yellow 
envelope  held  in  the  outstretched  hand. 

At  that  instant  Old  Heck,  owner  and  boss  of  the 
Quarter  Circle  KT  cow  outfit,  stepped  from  the 
shadow  of  the  open  ranch-house  door.  He  was 
short  and  stocky,  red- faced,  somewhere  near  the 
fifties,  and  a  yellowish-gray  mustache  hung  over 
tobacco  blackened  lips.  Overalls,  a  checked  blue  and 
white  shirt,  open  at  the  throat,  boots  into  which  the 
trousers  legs  were  loosely  jammed  comprised  his 
attire.  He  was  bareheaded  and  the  sun  glistened 
on  a  wrinkly  forehead,  topped  by  a  thin  sprinkling 
of  hair. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked  drowsily,  his 
small,  gray-blue  eyes  blinking  in  the  yellow  sun- 
glare  and  still  sluggish  from  the  nap  disturbed  by 
the  noise  of  Skinny's  arrival. 


A  NIGHT  LETTER  3 

"Nothin'.  Skinny's  just  got  a  letter  an'  is  excited 
about  it,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  said,  handing  the  en- 
velope to  him.  "It's  for  you." 

"My  Gawd!"  Old  Heck  exclaimed,  "it's  a  tele- 
gram !" 

The  cowboys  resting  in  the  shade  of  the  bunk- 
house  rose  to  their  feet,  sauntered  over  and  sur- 
rounded Old  Heck  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  comment- 
ing meanwhile,  frankly  and  caustically,  on  the 
fagged  condition  of  the  broncho  Skinny  was  on: 

"Must  'a'  been  scared,  the  way  you  run  that 
horse,"  Parker,  range  foreman  of  the  Quarter  Cir- 
cle KT,  a  heavy-built,  sandy-complexioned  man  in 
the  forties,  remarked  witheringly  to  Skinny  as  the 
cow-puncher  climbed  from  the  saddle  and  slid  to  the 
ground. 

"He's  mine,  I  reckon,"  Skinny  retorted,  "an*  I 
figure  it's  nobody's  darn'  business  how  I  ride  him — 
anyhow  I  brought  Old  Heck  a  telegram!"  he  added 
triumphantly. 

"Blamed  if  he  didn't!"  Charley  Saunders,  with 
a  trifle  of  awe,  pretended  or  real,  in  his  tone,  said. 
"It  sure  is!" 

"My  Gawd!"  Old  Heck  repeated,  slowly  turning 
the  envelope  over  in  his  hand,  "it's  a  telegram! 
Wonder  what  it's  about  ?" 

"Why  don't  you  open  it  and  see?"  Parker  sug- 
gested. 

"Yes,  open  th'  blamed  thing  and  find  out,"  Skinny 
encouraged. 


4  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"I — I've  a  notion  to,"  Old  Heck  whispered. 

"Go  on  and  do  it,  it  won't  take  but  a  minute," 
Charley  Saunders  entreated. 

"Maybe  he's  one  of  these  mind-readers  and  can 
read  it  through  the  envelope,"  Bert  Lilly  volun- 
teered. 

"Aw,  shut  up  and  give  him  a  chance !" 

Trembling,  Old  Heck  tore  open  the  envelope  and 
silently  read  the  message. 

"My  Gawd !"  he  groaned  again.  "The  worst  has 
come  to  the  worst !" 

"That  ought  to  make  it  middlin'  bad,"  Charley 
remarked  soberly. 

"Ought  to,"  Bert  added  sententiously. 

Parker  crowded  forward  on  sympathy  bent. 

"Tell  us  what's  in  it,"  he  said;  "if  it's  sorrowful 
we'll  be  plumb  glad  to  condole !" 

"It's  worse  than  sorrowful — " 

"Melancholical  ?"  Skinny  inquired. 

"My  Gawd!"  Old  Heck  said  again,  his  weather- 
worn features  working  convulsively,  "it's  more  than 
a  mortal  man  can  endure  and  stand !" 

"Bet  somebody's  dead!"  Bert  whispered  to  the 
Ramblin'  Kid. 

"Probably.  Most  everybody  gets  to  be  sooner  or 
later,"  was  the  answer  without  emotion. 

Sing  Pete,  Chinese  cook  for  the  outfit,  dish-rag 
over  his  shoulder,  edged  out  of  the  kitchen  door 
and  shuffled  around  to  the  group.  Glimpsing  the 
yellow  slip  of  paper  held  in  the  shaking  hand  of  Old 


A  NIGHT  LETTER  5 

Heck  and  the  awed  interest  of  the  cowboys  gathered 
about  the  boss,  he  queried : 

"Teleglam?" 

No  answer. 

"Teleglam  ?  Maybe  alle  samee  somebody  sickee  ?" 
he  continued,  cheerfully  confident  that  questions 
enough  would  ultimately  bring  a  reply.  He  was  re- 
warded : 

"What  do  you  know  about  'teleglams'?  You 
slant-eyed  burner  of  beef-steaks!" 

"Who's  it  from?"  Charley  asked.  "Anybody  we 
know — " 

"My  Gawd,"  Old  Heck  mourned  once  more, 
"she's  comin' !" 

"Who's  she?"   Parker  coaxed. 

"A  female,"  Old  Heck  replied,  "she's  a  female!" 

"The  darned  old  cuss  has  had  a  wife  sometime 
and  run  off  from  her  and  deserted  her  and  she's  pur- 
suing him  and  trailing  him  down  to  earth!"  Chuck 
Slithers,  doubting  Thomas  of  the  outfit  and  student 
of  Sherlock  Holmes,  cunningly  suggested.  "I  al- 
ways imagined  he  was  a  varmint  with  a  past — a* 
ex-heart  breaker  of  innocent  women  or  a  train- 
robber  or — " 

"Aw,  hell,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  rebuked,  "him  have 
a  wife?  Don't  insult  th'  female  population!" 

"Carramba!"  exclaimed  Pedro  Valencia,  Mexican 
line-rider  for  the  Quarter  Circle  KT,  "perhaps  she 
will  stick  him  with  the  dagger,  or  shoot  him  with 
the  gun  when  she  arrive !  The  ladies  with  love  kill 


6  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

quick  when  the  love  is — what  you  call  him? — the 
jilt?" 

"And  I'd  almost  forgot  I  ever  had  one!"  Old 
Heck  continued  talking  as  if  to  himself. 

"What'd  I  tell  you?"  Chuck  exulted. 

"Shut  up !  He's  confessin' — let  him  alone  an'  he'll 
get  it  out  of  his  conscience  sooner  or  later!" 

"Had  a  what?"  Parker  urged  sympathetically. 
"Maybe  you  didn't  have  one — maybe  you  only 
imagined  you  did!" 

"Had  a  brother — anyhow  a  half  a  one — our 
mothers  was  the  same  but  different  fathers  on  ac- 
count of  mine  dyin'  when  I  was  little  and  his  mar- 
rying our  mother  again;  we  was  playmates  to- 
gether in  our  innocent  childhood  and  infancy  until 
I  run  away  and  went  to  sea  and  finally  anchored 
on  the  Kiowa  and  got  to  raisin'  cattle — " 

"Where  does  he  come  in  at?"  Parker  questioned. 

"He  said  it  was  a  female,  to  start  with,"  Skinny 
added. 

" — and  his  name  is  Simeon  Dixon  on  account  of 
his  father's  being  the  same  thing,  and  he  went  in 
the  street  railroad  business  in  a  place  named  Hart- 
ville  in  Connecticut,  and  he  got  married  and  had  a 
wife — she  was  Zithia  Forbes,  and  she's  dead,  and  I 
knowed  that,  and  he's  rich  I  reckon  and — " 

"An'  Amrak  begat  Meshak  an'  Meshak  begat 
Zimri  an'  Zimri  was  th'  founder  of  th'  House  of 
Old  Heck,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  chanted.  "What  in 
thunder  does  details  amount  to,  anyhow?" 


A  NIGHT  LETTER  7 

"But  you  was  mournin'  about  a  she !"  Parker  in- 
sisted. 

"Well,  I  reckon  it  ain't  a  wife — at  least  not  the 
one  I  was  thinking  about,"  Chuck  murmured  disap- 
pointedly, "but  I  bet  he's  had  one  somewhere  in  his 
vari'gated  career  and  is  hiding  out  from  her  in  fear 
an'  tremblin' — " 

"And  there  will  not  be  the  grand,  the  beautiful 
murder?"  Pedro  sighed,  questioningly. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  Skinny  pleaded,  " — give  him 
air!" 

" — and  he's  got  a  female  daughter — and  I  didn't 
know  that — and  he's — oh,  Gawd ! — he's  sending  her 
out  to  the  Quarter  Circle  KT!" 

"How  big  is  she?"  Parker  whispered. 

"She's — she's  twenty-two — " 

"Inches  around  or  what?"  Charley  gasped. 

" — and  Ophelia  is  coming  with  her — Ophelia 
Cobb — C-o-double-b  it  is — is  coming  with  her  for  a 
chaperon — " 

"Great  guns!"  Skinny  breathed,  " — two  females!" 

"Hold  still  and  I'll  read  it — no,  you  do  it,  Parker 
— I'm  too  full  of  emotion — my  voice'd  quiver — ' 

Parker  read: 

) 

"Josiah  Heck,  Eagle  Butte,  Texas : 

"Am  sending  my  daughter,  Carolyn  June,  out  to 
your  ranch  for  a  while.  She  needs  a  change.  She 
has  broke  all  the  he-human  hearts  in  Hartville — 
that  is  all  of  them  old  enough  or  young  enough  to 
be  broke — and  is  what's  called  a  love-stimulator 


V 

8  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

and  won't  settle.  She  is  twenty-two  and  it's  time 
she  was  calmed.  Hoping  six  months  on  the  Kiowa 
range  will  gentle  her  quite  a  lot,  I  am  sympatheti- 
cally your  }/2  brother,  Simeon. 

"P.  S. — Mrs.  Ophelia  Cobb,  a  lady  widow,  is 
coming  with  her  for  a  chaperon.  Beware  of  both 
of  them.  They  will  arrive  at  Eagle  Butte  the 
21st— S." 

"Gee,  it's  a  long  one !"  Chuck  said  admiringly. 

"It's  one  of  these  'Night  Letters/  "  Parker  ex- 
plained. 

"I  knowed  it  was  bad  news,"  Skinny  exclaimed, 
"—poor  old  Heck!" 

"Better  say,  'Poor  we  all !'  "  Bert  declared.  "Fare- 
well peace  and  joy  on  the  Quarter  Circle  KT !" 

"The  Lord  have  mercy  on  Old  Heck!"  Charley 
cried  with  dramatic  fervor. 

"Holy  smoke,"  Parker  murmured  desperately, 
"two  of  them  on  the  twenty-first — and  that's  to- 
morrow!" 


CHAPTER  II 

A  BLUFF  CALLED 

THE  Quarter  Circle  KT  was  a  womanless 
ranch.  Came  now,  like  a  bolt  from  the  clear 
sky  or  the  sudden  clang  of  a  fire-alarm  bell,  the 
threat  of  violation  of  this  Eveless  Eden  by  the  in- 
trusion of  a  pair  of  strange  and  unknown  females. 
The  arrival  of  the  telegram  telling  of  the  coming 
of  Carolyn  June  Dixon,  Old  Heck's  niece,  and 
Ophelia  Cobb,  her  chaperon,  filled  with  varying 
emotions  the  hearts  of  Old  Heck,  Parker  and  the 
cowboys. 

To  Old  Heck  their  presence  meant  nothing  less 
than  calamity.  Long  years  of  he-man  association 
had  made  him  dread  the  petty  restraints  he  imag- 
ined would  be  imposed  by  intimate  contact  with 
womankind.  Good  lord,  a  man  wouldn't  be  able 
even  to  cuss  freely,  and  without  embarrassment, 
with  a  couple  of  women  in  the  house  and  prowling 
around  the  ranch! 

Skinny,  Bert,  Chuck,  Pedro,  Charley,  the  Ram- 
blin'  Kid,  even  the  Chink  cook  and  Parker,  quivered 
with  excitement  and  curiosity  behind  thinly  veiled 
pretense  of  fear  and  horror.  Secretly  they  rejoiced. 
It  was  marvelous  news  borne  by  the  telegram  Skinny 

9 


10  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

brought.  Here  would  be  diversion  ample,  unusual, 
wholly  worth  while  and  filled  with  possibilities  of 
romance  as  luring  as  the  first  glimpse  of  a  strange 
new  land  shadowed  with  mystery  and  promise  of 
thrilling  adventure. 

Sing  Pete  paddled  back  to  the  unfinished  business 
of  the  kitchen,  chattering  excitedly.  The  cowboys 
stood  mutely  and  stared  at  Old  Heck  and  the  fatal 
slip  of  yellow  paper. 

"What'll  I  do?"  Old  Heck  asked  the  group  de- 
spairingly. "They'll  ruin  everything." 

"Can't  you  head  'em  off,  somehow  ?"  Parker  sug- 
gested. 

"Can't  be  done.  They're  already  on  their  way 
and  probably  somewhere  this  side  of  Kansas  City 
by  now." 

"Find  out  which  train  they're  on  and  let  the  Ram- 
blin'  Kid  and  me  cut  across  to  the  Purgatory  River 
bridge  and  wreck  it,"  Skinny  Rawlins,  always  tragic, 
darkly  advised. 

"I  ain't  particular  about  killin'  females,"  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  objected,  "besides,  we  ain't  got  no 
dynamite." 

"Send  them  a  telegram  and  say  Old  Heck's  dead 
and  not  to  come,"  Bert  Lilly  volunteered. 

"Aw,  you  blamed  idiot,  they'd  come  anyhow  thent 
just  to  attend  the  funeral — 

"I  got  an  idea,"  Chuck  Slithers  exclaimed;  "it's 
a  telegram,  too.  Send  them  one  C.  O.  D.  in  care 
of  the  train  that  will  get  to  Eagle  Butte  the  twenty- 


A  BLUFF  CALLED  11 

first  and  tell  them  we've  all  got  the  smallpox  and 
we're  sorry  but  everybody's  dangerously  sick  and  to 
please  answer!" 

"That  might  work,"  Parker  said;  "they'd  be 
mighty  near  sure  not  to  want  to  catch  it." 

"We'll  try  it,"  Old  Heck  agreed.  "Chuck  wants 
to  ride  over  to  Eagle  Butte  anyway  and  he  can  have 
the  depot  agent  send  it  and  wait  for  a  reply." 

"Go  get  your  horse  ready,  Chuck,"  Parker  said, 
"we'll  write  it  while  you're  saddlin'  up !" 

Chuck  hurried  to  the  corral  while  Old  Heck  went 
into  the  house  for  pencil  and  writing-paper.  Parker 
and  the  cowboys  moved  in  a  group  to  the  shade  of 
the  porch  in  front  of  the  house. 

"What'll  we  tell  them?"  Old  Heck  asked,  reap- 
pearing with  writing  materials.  "Here,  Parker, 
you  write  it." 

"Dear  niece  Carolyn  June  Dixon  and  Chaperon : 
Sorry,  but  there's  an  epidemic  of  smallpox  at  the 
Quarter  Circle  KT  and  you  can't  come.  Chuck  is 
dying  with  it.  Old  Heck's  plumb  prostrated,  Bert 
is  already  broke  out,  Pedro  is  starting  to  and  Skinny 
Rawlins  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid  are  just  barely  able 
to  be  up.  I  love  you  too  much  to  want  you  to  catch 
it.  Please  go  back  to  Hartville  and  give  my  regards 
to  your  pa  and  don't  expose  yourself.  Answer  by 
return  telegram  so  I'll  know  your  intentions.  Af- 
fectionately and  absolutely  your  Uncle  Josiah 
Heck,"  Parker  read  after  writing  a  few  moments. 
"How's  that?" 


12  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Sounds  all  right." 

"Got  it  ready?"  Chuck  called  from  the  fence, 
while  Silver  Tip,  the  trim-built  half-blood  Hamble- 
tonian  colt  he  was  riding,  reared  and  pranced,  eager 
for  the  road  and  a  run. 

"For  lord's  sake  hurry  up,  Chuck,"  Old  Heck 
yelled  as  the  Ramblin'  Kid  handed  the  paper  to 
Chuck  and  the  cowboy  whirled  his  horse  into  a 
gallop  toward  Eagle  Butte.  "Have  the  agent  send 
it  in  care  of  whatever  train  they  might  be  on  and 
get  an  answer,  then  come  back  as  quick  as  possible 
— waiting  is  agony !" 

It  was  a  long  afternoon  for  Old  Heck  and  the 
cowboys  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  A  band  of 
colts  were  in  the  circular  corral  to  be  gentled  to  ropev 
saddle  and  hackamore.  Old  Heck  sat  on  the  top 
pole  of  the  corral  and  moodily  watched  the  struggle 
of  the  men  and  horses  in  the  dry,  dusty  enclosure  as 
one  by  one  each  young  broncho  was  roped,  saddled 
and  ridden.  Frequently  he  turned  longing  eyes 
toward  Eagle  Butte,  anxious  for  sight  of  the  cloud 
of  dust  from  which  Chuck  would  emerge  bringing, 
he  hoped,  word  that  Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia 
Cobb  had  heeded  the  misleading  message. 

The  sun  crept  across  the  western  sky  and  dropped 
lower  and  lower  until  it  hung  at  last,  a  blazing  disk 
of  fire,  close  above  the  highest  peaks  of  the  Costejo 
mountain  range.  The  poplars  in  front  of  the  house 
flung  slim  black  shadows  across  the  low  adobe  build- 


A  BLUFF  CALLED  13 

ings  and  splashed  the  tip  of  their  shade  in  the  dust- 
cloud  that  filled  with  haze  the  corral  a  hundred 
yards  away.  Sing  Pete  stepped  from  the  door  and 
beat  a  tattoo  on  the  iron  triangle  suspended  by  a 
piece  of  wire  from  the  lowest  branch  of  a  mesquit 
tree  at  the  corner  of  the  house,  announcing  by  the 
metallic  clamor  that  the  work  of  the  day  was  fin- 
ished and  supper  was  ready  and  waiting.  Parker 
swung  back  the  heavy  gate  at  the  corral  entrance 
and  the  dozen  colts,  sweat  streaks  on  heads  and 
backs  and  bellies  where  hackamore,  saddle  and 
cinches  told  of  the  lessons  of  the  afternoon,  push- 
ing and  jamming  and  with  a  clatter  of  hoofs,  whirled 
out  to  freedom,  around  the  stable  and  down  a  lane 
into  an  open  meadow. 

Kicking  off  their  chaps  the  cowboys  tossed  them 
on  the  riding  gear,  piled  already  against  the  fence 
of  the  corral,  and  straggled  stiffly  toward  the  house. 
On  the  wire  enclosing  the  back  yard  Sing  Pete  had 
hung  a  couple  of  heavy  towels,  coarse  and  long. 
Some  basins  and  several  chunks  of  yellow  laundry 
soap  were  on  a  bench  beside  an  irrigation  ditch  that 
ran  along  the  fence  just  inside  the  gate.  Old  Heck, 
Parker  and  the  cowboys  stopped  at  the  ditch,  pitched 
their  hats  on  the  grass  and  dipping  water  from  the 
ditch  scoured  the  dust  and  sweat  from  their  faces 
and  hands. 

All  were  silent  as  if  each  was  troubled  with 
thoughts  too  solemn  to  be  spoken  aloud. 


14  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

At  last,  Skinny,  handing  a  towel  to  Bert  after 
drying  his  own  sun-tanned  face  and  hands,  remarked 
inanely : 

"Chuck  ain't  come,  has  he  ?" 

"Shipper!"  Sing  Pete  called. 

They  filed  into  the  kitchen  and  each  took  his  reg- 
ular place  at  the  long,  oilcloth  covered  table.  The 
food,  wholesome,  plain  and  abundant,  was  already 
served. 

Silently  each  heaped  his  plate  with  the  viands  be- 
fore him  while  Sing  Pete  circled  the  table  pouring 
coffee  into  the  white  porcelain  cups.  The  Quarter 
Circle  KT  was  famous  for  the  excellence  of  its 
grub  and  the  Chink  was  an  expert  cook. 

"Lordy,  oh,  lordy,"  Old  Heck  groaned,  "it  don't 
seem  possible  them  women  are  coming!" 

"Maybe  they  won't,"  Parker  sympathized.  "When 
they  get  that  telegram  they  ought  to  turn  around 
and  go  back — " 

"Chuck's  coming!"  Bert  Lilly  exclaimed  at  tha* 
moment  and 'the  sound  of  a  horse  stopping  suddenly 
at  the  front  of  the  house  reached  the  ears  of  tht. 
group  at  the  table. 

"Go  ask  him  if  he  got  an  answer,  somebody, 
quick!"  Old  Heck  cried. 

As  Charley  Saunders  sprang  to  his  feet  Chuck 
yelled,  "They  got  it  and  sent  an  answer!  I  gof 
one — "  and  rushed  excitedly  through  the  house  ana 
into  the  kitchen  waving  an  envelope,  twin  to  thf 


A  BLUFF  CALLED  15 

one  Skinny  had  brought  earlier  in  the  day.  "They're 
on  Train  Number  Seventeen,  the  agent  said — " 

"My  Gawd!"  Old  Heck  gasped,  "what  does  it 
say?  Give  it  here!"  reaching  for  the  message  the 
cowboy  held  in  his  hand. 

"Good  lord,  it  didn't  work!"  he  groaned  as  he 
read  the  telegram  and  handed  it  across  the  table  to 
Parker. 

"Read  it  out  loud,"  several  spoke  at  once. 

"  'We've  both  had  it,'  "  Parker  read,  "  'and  are 
not  afraid.  Anyhow  we  think  you  are  a  darned  old 
lovable  liar.  Will  arrive  according  to  schedule.  If 
you  are  not  a  liar  we'll  nurse  you  back  to  health  and 
happiness.  If  you  are,  watch  out!  Your  affection- 
ate but  suspicious  little  niece  Carolyn  June  Dixon. 
Postscript :  Are  there  any  nice  wild,  untamed,  young 
cowboys  out  there  ? — Carolyn  J.' ' 

"Hell-fire!"  Skinny  said,  "what'll  we  do?" 

No  answer.  Chuck  went  moodily  out  to  attend 
to  his  horse,  and  the  meal  was  finished  in  silence. 
Even  Sing  Pete  seemed  deeply  depressed.  After 
supper  Old  Heck  straightened  up  and  in  a  do-or-die 
tone  said: 

'  "We'll  all  go  out  where  it's  cool  and  hold  a  caucus 
and  figure  what  ought  to  be  done." 

"There  ain't  nothing  we  can  do  but  surrender,  as 
far  as  I  can  see,"  Parker  observed  gloomily  as  they 
gathered  on  the  porch  in  front  of  the  house.  "They 
seem  plumb  determined  to  arrive — " 


16  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"I've  already  give  up  hope,"  Old  Heck  answered, 
"but  what  will  we  do  with  them  when  they  get  here? 
We  can't  just  brand  'em  and  turn  them  loose  on  the 
range." 

"I  make  a  motion  we  elect  Skinny  to  ride  herd 
on  'em !"  Bert  Lilly  suggested. 

"Damned  if  I  do!"  Skinny  exclaimed  uneasily. 

"It's  a  good  idea,"  Parker  said.  "From  all  ac- 
counts the  young  one  expects  to  be  made  love  to  and 
if  she  ain't  she'll  probably  be  weeping  around  all  the 
time—" 

"Well,  I  can't  stand  sobbin' !"  Old  Heck  declared. 
"Any  female  is  hard  enough  to  endure  and  one  that 
gets  to  mourning  is  plumb  distasteful ! 

"That's  probably  the  best  thing  to  do,"  he  con- 
tinued, "just  appoint  Skinny  to  be  official  love-maker 
to  Carolyn  June  while  she's  at  the  Quarter  Circle 
KT.  It  will  probably  save  confusion — " 

"I  brought  the  telegram  telling  about  them  com- 
ing and  I've  done  my  share,"  Skinny  protested; 
"somebody  else  can  be  delegated  to  do  the  love- 
making  !" 

"That's  just  the  reason  it  ought  to  be  your  job," 
Old  Heck  argued;  "you  went  and  got  the  telegram 
in  the  first  place  and  are  sort  of  responsible  for  them 
being  here." 

"Aw,  let  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  do  it,"  Skinny  pleaded, 
"he's  an  easy  talker  and  everything — " 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  straightened  up  and  started 
for  the  gate. 


A  BLUFF  CALLED  17 

"Where  you  going?" 

"To  catch  Capt'n  Jack,"  he  drawled ;  "after  that 
for  a  little  ride  down  to  th'  Pecos  or  over  in  Chi- 
huahua somewhere  a  couple  hundr'd  miles.  I  de- 
cline with  enthusiasm  to  fall  in  love  on  th'  spur  of 
th'  moment  for  any  damned  outfit !" 

"You  come  on  back,"  Parker  called,  "Skinny'll 
have  to  do  it.  He  can  have  all  his  time  for  it  and 
just  pretend  he's  in  love  and  sort  of  entertain  her. 
He  don't  need  to  go  and  do  it  in  earnest.  Come  on 
back,  you  darned  chump,  I  need  you  on  the  beef 
hunt!" 

"What'll  I  have  to  do?"  Skinny  asked  cautiously. 

"Just  set  on  the  front  porch  with  her  at  night  and 
make  your  eyes  roll  up  like  a  calf's  that's  being 
branded  and  kind  of  sigh  heart-broken  once  in  a 
while,"  Bert  volunteered.  "It'll  be  easy  when  you 
get  used  to  it — " 

"If  you  know  so  much  about  it  why  don't  you 
enlist  yourself?"  Skinny  asked  irritably.  "Some  of 
you  fellows  go  on  and  volunteer,"  he  pleaded  dole- 
fully. 

"I  would  in  a  minute,"  Chuck  chipped  in,  "if  I 
was  good-looking  like  Skinny  and  had  a  white 
shirt—" 

"What's  a  white  shirt  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"Listen  to  the  innocent  child,"  Chuck  laughed, 
"as  if  any  darned  fool  didn't  know  that  the  first 
thing  a  professional  love-maker  has  to  have  is  a 
white  shirt !" 


18  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"That  settles  it,"  Skinny  declared  with  emphasis, 
"I  won't  wear  a  white  shirt  to  make  love  to  no 
blamed  woman — " 

"Chuck's  locoed,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  interposed; 
"you  don't  need  to  have  no  white  shirt — of  course  it 
would  be  better  but  it  ain't  downright  necessary — 
women  don't  fall  in  love  with  shirts,  it's  what's 
inside  of  them." 

"Where  did  you  find  out  so  much  about  women  ?" 
Bert  queried. 

"I  didn't  find  out — I'm  just  guessin' — " 

"There  ain't  no  use  arguing,"  Old  Heck  broke 
in.  "Skinny  will  have  to  be  expert  love-maker  for 
that  Carolyn  June  niece  of  mine — I'll  allow  him  ten 
dollars  a  month  more  wages  while  he's  doing  it.  I 
ain't  going  to  have  her  writing  letters  to  her  pa  and 
telling  him  she  didn't  have  no  conveniences  or  noth- 
ing. Anyhow,  she's  young  and  I  reckon  it's  sort 
of  necessary." 

"What  about  th'  other  one — Ophelia  Cobb  or 
whoever  she  is?"  Bert  Lilly  asked. 

"She's  past  the  age  for  it,  probably,"  Parker  said 
uneasily. 

"They  don't  pass  it,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  inter- 
rupted laconically;  "when  females  get  too  old  to 
want  to  be  made  love  to  they  die — " 

"I'd  like  to  know  where  in  hell  a  juvenile  like 
you  got  your  education  about  women!"  Bert  in- 
sisted to  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 


A  BLUFF  CALLED  19 

"I  ain't  got  none — I'm  just  guessin',  I  told  you," 
the  other  replied,  "but  it's  the  truth,  anyhow." 

"Well,  if  I've  got  to  make  love  to  the  young  one 
Old  Heck  or  Parker  or  somebody's  got  to  do  it  for 
the  other  one,"  Skinny  declared  positively. 

"Ophelia  don't  need  it,"  Old  Heck  said  hastily, 
"she's  a  widow  and  has  done  been — " 

"Widows  are  th'  worst,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
drawled;  "they've  had  experience  an'  don't  like  to 
give  it  up." 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  right,"  Chuck  broke  in.  "I 
read  a  book  once  that  said  that's  the  way  they  are. 
It's  up  to  Old  Heck  or  Parker  to  represent  Cupid  to 
the  widow — " 

"Who  the  hell's  Cupid?"  Skinny  asked  curiously. 

"He's  a  dangerous  little  outlaw  that  ain't  got  no 
reg'lar  range,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  answered  for 
Chuck. 

"I'll  not  do  it—"  Old  Heck  and  Parker  spoke  at 
once. 

"Then  I  won't  either,"  Skinny  declared  flatly, 
"I'll  quit  the  doggoned  Quarter  Circle  KT  first!" 

"Let  Sing  Pete  make  love  to  the  widow,"  Bert 
suggested.  t 

"No,  no!  Me  busy  cookee,"  Sing  Pete,  who  had 
been  listening  from  the  open  doorway,  jabbered  and 
darted,  frightened,  back  into  the  house. 

"Anyhow  I'd  kill  him  if  he  did,"  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  said  softly;  "no  darned  Chink  can  make  love 


20  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

to  a  white  woman,  old,  young  or  indifferent,  in  my 
presence  an'  live !" 

"Well,  Old  Heck'll  have  to  do  it,  then,"  Skinny 
said;  "hanged  if  I'm  going  to  be  the  only  he-love- 
maker  on  this  ranch !" 

"Let  Parker  and  Old  Heck  divide  up  on  Ophelia," 
Chuck  advised,  "one  of  them  can  love  her  one  day 
and  the  other  the  next — " 

"That's  reasonable,"  Bert  declared,  "she'd  prob- 
ably enjoy  a  change  herself." 

"I  tell  you  I  ain't  got  time,"  Parker  protested. 

"Neither  have  I,"  Old  Heck  added. 

"All  right  then,  I  ain't  either !"  Skinny  declared. 
"If  you  two  ain't  willing  to  take  turn  about  with  the 
widow  and  love  her  off  and  on  between  you  I'll  be 
everlastingly  hell-tooted  if  I'm  going  to  stand  for  a 
whole  one  by  myself  all  of  the  time !  I'll  go  on  strike 
first  and  start  right  now !" 

"We'll  stay  with  you,  Skinny,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
exclaimed  with  a  laugh,  "th*  whole  bunch  will  quit 
till  Parker  an'  Old  Heck  grants  our  demands." 

"We'll  all  quit !"  the  cowboys  chorused. 

"Oh,  well,  Parker,"  Old  Heck  grumbled,  "I 
reckon  we'll  have  to  do  it !" 

"It  won't  be  hard  work,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  said 
consolingly,  "all  you  got  to  do  is  set  still  an'  leave 
it  to  Ophelia.  Widows  are  expert  love-makers 
themselves  an'  know  how  to  keep  things  goin' !" 

It  was  settled.  Skinny  Rawlins,  at  an  increase  of 
ten  dollars  a  month  on  his  wage,  protestingly,  was 


A  BLUFF  CALLED  21 

elected  official  love-maker  to  Carolyn  June  Dixon, 
Old  Heck's  niece,  speeding  unsuspectingly  toward 
the  Quarter  Circle  KT,  and  Old  Heck  and  Parker 
between  them  were  to  divide  the  affections  of  Ophe- 
lia Cobb,  widow  and  chaperon. 

In  the  mind  of  every  cowboy  on  the  ranch  there 
was  one  thought  unexpressed  but  very  insistent  that 
night,  "Wonder  what  She  looks  like?"  thinking,  of 
course,  of  Carolyn  June. 

Old  Heck  and  Parker  also  were  disturbed  by  a 
common  worry.  As  each  sank  into  fitful  sleep, 
thinking  of  Ophelia  Cobb,  the  widow,  and  his  own 
predestinated  affinity  he  murmured : 

"What  if  she  insists  on  getting  married?" 


CHAPTER  III 
WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH 

EAGLE  BUTTE  sprawled  hot  and  thirsty  under 
the  melting  sunshine  of  mid- forenoon.  It  was 
not  a  prepossessing  town.  All  told,  no  more  than 
two  hundred  buildings  were  within  its  corporate 
limits.  A  giant  mound,  capped  by  a  crown  of 
crumbling,  weather-tinted  rock,  rose  abruptly  at  the 
northern  edge  of  the  village  and  gave  the  place  its 
name.  Cimarron  River,  slugglish  and  yellow, 
bounded  the  town  on  the  south.  The  dominant  note 
of  Eagle  Butte  was  a  pathetic  mixture  of  regret  for 
glories  of  other  days  and  clumsy  ambition  to  assume 
the  ways  of  a  city.  Striving  hard  to  be  modern  it 
succeeded  only  in  being  grotesque. 

The  western  plains  are  sprinkled  with  towns  like 
that.  Towns  that  once,  in  the  time  of  the  long-horn 
steer  and  the  forty- four  and  the  nerve  to  handle 
both,  were  frankly  unconventional.  Touched  later 
by  the  black  magic  of  development,  bringing  brick 
buildings,  prohibition,  picture  shows,  real-estate 
boosters,  speculation  and  attendant  evils  or  benefits 
as  one  chooses  to  classify  them,  they  became  neither 
elemental  nor  ethical — mere  gawky  mimics  of  both. 

22 


WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH  23 

When  western  Texas  was  cow-country  and  noth- 
ing else  Eagle  Butte  at  least  was  picturesque.  Flick- 
ering lights,  gay  laughter — sometimes  curses  and 
the  sounds  of  revolver  shots,  of  battles  fought  close 
and  quick  and  to  a  finish — wheezy  music,  click  of 
ivory  chips,  the  clink  of  glasses,  from  old  Bonanza's 
and  similar  rendezvous  of  hilarity  lured  to  the  dance, 
faro,  roulette,  the  poker  table  or  the  hardwood  pol- 
ished bar. 

The  Mecca  it  was  in  those  days  for  cowboys 
weary  with  months  on  the  wide-flung  range. 

To-day  Eagle  Butte  is  modest,  mild  and  super- 
subdued. 

A  garage,  cement  built,  squatty  and  low  and  pain- 
fully new,  its  wide-mouthed  entrance  guarded  by  a 
gasoline  pump  freshly  painted  and  exceedingly  red, 
stands  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  single,  broad,  un- 
paved  business  street.  All  of  the  stores  face  one 
way — north — and  look  sleepily  across  at  the  rail- 
road tracks,  the  low-eaved,  yellow,  Santa  Fe  station 
and  the  sunburnt  sides  of  the  butte  beyond.  Oppo- 
site the  station  the  old  Occidental  Hotel  with  its 
high  porch,  wide  steps,  narrow  windows,  dingy 
weather-board  sides  and  blackened  roof,  still  stands 
to  remind  old-timers  of  the  days  of  long  ago. 

A  city  marshal,  Tom  Poole,  a  long,  slim,  sandy- 
mustached  Missourian,  completes  the  picture  of 
Eagle  Butte.  Regularly  he  meets  the  arriving  trains 
and  by  the  glistening  three-inch  nickel  star  pinned 
to  his  left  suspender  announces  to  the  traveling 


24  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

world  that  here,  on  the  one  time  woolly  Kiowa,  law 
and  order  at  last  prevail.  Odd  times  the  marshal 
farms  a  ten-acre  truck  patch  close  to  the  river  at  the 
southern  edge  of  the  town.  Pending  the  arrival  of 
trains  he  divides  his  time  between  the  front  steps 
of  the  old  hotel  and  the  Elite  Amusement  Parlor, 
Eagle  Butte's  single  den  of  iniquity  where  pocket 
pool,  billiards,  solo — devilish  dissipations  these ! — 
along  with  root  beer,  ginger  ale,  nut  sundaes,  soda- 
pop,  milk  shakes  and  similar  enticements  are  served 
to  those  of  reckless  and  untamed  temperaments. 

From  the  open  door  of  the  pool  hall  the  marshal 
saw  a  thin,  black  streak  of  smoke  curling  far  out  on 
the  horizon — a  dozen  miles — northeast  of  Eagle 
Butte. 

"Seventeen's  comin',"  he  remarked  to  the  trio  of 
idlers  leaning  against  the  side  of  the  building; 
"guess  I'd  better  go  over  an'  see  who's  on  her," 
moving  as  he  spoke  out  into  the  sizzling  glare  of 
the  almost  deserted  street.  Glancing  toward  the  east 
his  eyes  fastened  on  a  cloud  of  dust  whirling  rapidly 
along  the  road  that  came  from  the  direction  of  the 
lower  Cimarron. 

"Gosh,  lookey  yonder,"  he  muttered,  "that  must 
be  Old  Heck  drivin'  his  new  automobile — th'  darn 
fool  is  goin'  to  bust  something  some  day,  runnin' 
that  car  the  way  he  does !" 

Walking  quickly,  to  escape  the  heat,  he  crossed 
the  street  to  the  station. 

Two  minutes  later  the  cloud  of  dust  trailed  a 


WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH  25 

rakish,  trim-lined,  high-powered,  purring  Clagstone 
"Six"  to  a  stop  in  front  of  the  Occidental  Hotel 
and  Old  Heck  and  Skinny  Rawlins  climbed  glumly 
and  stiffly  from  the  front  seat,  after  the  thirty- 
minute,  twenty-mile  run  from  the  Quarter  Circle 
KT. 

Old  Heck  had  his  peculiarities.  One  of  them  was 
insistence  for  the  best — absolutely  or  nothing.  The 
first  pure-bred,  hot-blood  stallions  turned  on  the 
Kiowa  range  carried  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  brand 
on  their  left  shoulders.  He  wanted  quality  in  his 
stock  and  spent  thousands  of  dollars  importing  bulls 
and  stallions  to  get  it.  When  the  automobile  came  it 
was  the  same.  No  jit  for  the  erratic  owner  of  the 
last  big  genuine  cow-ranch  on  the  Cimarron.  Con- 
sequently the  beautiful  car — a  car  fit  for  Fifth 
Avenue — standing  now  in  front  of  the  old  hotel  in 
Eagle  Butte. 

The  smoke  on  the  northeastern  sky-line  was  yet 
some  miles  away. 

The  lanky  marshal  had  reached  the  station. 

"It's  a  good  thing  there's  prohibition  in  this 
town,"  Skinny  muttered  as  he  stepped  from  the 
car  and  started  brushing  the  dust  from  his  coat. 

"Why?'' 

"  'Cause  I'd  go  get  drunk  if  there  wasn't — .  Won- 
der if  a  feller  could  get  any  boot-leg  liquor?" 

"Better  leave  it  alone,"  Old  Heck  warned,  "that 
kind's  worse  than  none.  It  don't  make  you  drunk 
—just  gives  you  the  hysterical  hydrophobia!" 


26  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Well,  I'd  drink  anything  in  an  emergency  like 
this  if  I  had  it,"  Skinny  declared  doggedly. 

"Tram's  comin',"  Old  Heck  said  shortly;  "reckon 
we'd  better  go  over  to  the  depot — " 

"Let's  wait  here  till  they  get  off  first,"  Skinny 
said.  "We  can  see  them  from  where  we  are  and 
kind  of  size  'em  up  and  it  won't  be  so  sudden." 

"Maybe  that  would  be  better,"  Old  Heck  an- 
swered. 

A  moment  later  Number  Seventeen,  west-bound 
Santa  Fe  passenger  train,  stopped  at  the  yellow  sta- 
tion. The  rear  cars  were  obscured  from  the  view 
of  Skinny  and  Old  Heck  by  freight  sheds  along 
the  track.  With  the  exception  of  the  engine,  bag- 
gage, mail  and  express  cars,  which  were  hidden  by 
the  depot,  the  rest  of  the  train  was  in  plain  sight. 

A  couple  of  men  got  off  the  day  coach.  These 
were  followed  by  a  gawky,  weirdly  dressed  girl  of 
uncertain  age  carrying  an  old-fashioned  telescope 
traveling  bag.  At  sight  of  the  girl  Skinny  caught 
his  breath  with  a  gasp.  Immediately  following  her 
was  the  tallest,  homeliest  woman  he  had  ever  seen. 
Thin  to  the  point  of  emaciation,  a  wide  striped,  ill- 
fitting  dress  of  some  cheap  material  accentuated  the 
angular  lines  of  her  body.  A  tiny  narrow-brimmed 
hat,  bright  green,  with  a  white  feather,  dingy  and 
soiled,  sticking  straight  up  at  the  back  made  her 
more  than  ever  a  caricature.  The  woman  also  car- 
ried a  bag.  The  two  stepped  up  to  the  marshal, 
standing  at  the  corner  of  the  station,  apparently 


WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH  27 

asking  him  a  question.  He  answered,  pointing  as 
he  did  to  Old  Heck  and  Skinny  leaning  silently 
against  the  side  of  their  car.  The  woman  and  girl 
started  toward  them. 

Fascinated,  the  cow-men  watched  them  approach. 

"My  Gawd!"  Old  Heck  hoarsely  whispered, 
"that's  them!" 

"Let's  go!"  Skinny  exclaimed,  sweat  starting  in 
unheeded  beads  on  his  forehead.  "Good  lord,  let's 
get  in  the  car  and  go  while  we  got  a  chance !" 

Old  Heck  made  a  move  as  if  to  comply,  then 
stopped.  "Can't  now,"  he  said  gloomily,  "it's  too 
late!" 

As  Old  Heck  turned  the  woman  shrieked  in  a 
rasping  voice : 

"Hey — hey  you !    Wait  a  minute !" 

The  cow-men  looked  around  and  stared  dumbly, 
dazedly,  at  her. 

"Can  I  get  you  to  take  me  an'  my  daughter  out 
to  that  construction  camp  where  they're  buildin'  a 
ditch  or  something?"  she  asked;  "that  policeman 
said  maybe  we  could  get  you  to — "  she  continued. 
"I  got  a  job  cookin'  out  there  an'  Lize  here  is  goin' 
to  wait  on  table." 

Old  Heck,  still  looking  up  in  her  eyes,  with  horror 
written  on  every  line  of  his  face,  his  lips  twitching 
till  he  could  scarcely  speak,  finally  managed  to  say : 

"Ain't— ain't  you  Ophelia?" 

"Ophelia?  Ophelia  who?"  she  asked,  then  be- 
fore he  could  speak  she  answered  his  question: 


28  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Ophelia — huh!  No,  I  ain't  Ophelia!  I'm  Missus 
Jasamine  Swope  an'  a  married  woman  an'  you'd 
better  not  try  to  get  fresh  or — " 

Simultaneous  with  Old  Heck's  question,  Skinny, 
his  eyes  riveted  on  the  dowdy  girl,  asked  in  a  voice 
barely  audible : 

"Are  you — are  you  Carolyn  June?" 

"No,  I  ain't  Carolyn  June,"  she  snorted.  "Come 
on,  ma ;  let's  go !  Them  two's  crazy  or  white  slav- 
ers or  somethin' !" 

Expressing  their  scorn  and  disdain  by  the  angry 
flirt  of  their  skirts,  the  woman  and  girl  whirled  and 
walked  briskly  away  toward  the  garage  at  the  end 
of  the  street. 

"Praise  th'  heavens,"  Old  Heck  breathed  fer- 
vently as  he  gazed  spell-bound  after  the  retreating 
pair,  "it  wasn't  them !" 

"Carolyn  June  and  the  widow  probably  went  back 
after  all,"  Skinny  said  without  looking  around  and 
with  the  barest  trace  of  disappointment,  now  that 
the  danger  seemed  past,  in  his  voice.  "Maybe  they 
got  to  thinking  about  that  telegram  and  decided  not 
to  come  at  last." 

"More  than  likely  that  was  it,"  Old  Heck  an- 
swered. 

Steps  sounded  behind  them.  Skinny  and  Old 
Heck  turned  and  again  they  almost  fainted  at  what 
they  saw.  The  marshal,  a  leather  traveling  bag  in 
each  hand,  accompanied  by  two  smartly  dressed 
women,  approached. 


WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH  29 

"These  ladies  are  huntin'  for  you,"  he  said  to 
Old  Heck,  dropping  the  bags  and  mopping  his  face 
with  the  sleeve  of  his  shirt.  "Guess  they're  some 
kind  of  kin  folks,"  he  added. 

Concealed  by  the  freight  sheds  Carolyn  June 
Dixon  and  Ophelia  Cobb  had  stepped  from  the 
Pullman  at  the  rear  of  the  train,  unseen  by  Old 
Heck  and  Skinny.  Nor  had  either  noticed,  being 
engrossed  with  the  couple  that  had  left  them  a 
moment  before,  the  trio  coming  across  from  the 
station. 

As  the  cook  and  her  daughter  by  their  very  home- 
liness had  appalled  and  overwhelmed  them,  these 
two,  Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June,  by  their  exactly 
opposite  appearance  stunned  Old  Heck  and  Skinny 
and  rendered  them  speechless  with  embarrassment. 
Both  were  silently  thankful  they  had  shaved  that 
morning  and  Skinny  wondered  if  his  face,  like  Old 
Heck's,  was  streaked  with  sweat  and  dust. 

For  a  moment  the  group  studied  one  another. 

Carolyn  June  held  the  eyes  of  Skinny  in  mute 
and  helpless  admiration.  Despite  the  heat  of  the 
blazing  sun  she  looked  fresh  and  clean  and  pleas- 
ant— wholly  unsoiled  by  the  marks  of  travel.  A 
snow-white  Panama  hat,  the  brim  sensibly  wide, 
drooped  over  cheeks  that  were  touched  with  a  splash 
of  tan  that  suggested  much  time  in  the  open.  An 
abundance  of  hair,  wonderfully  soft  and  brown, 
showing  the  slightest  glint  of  coppery  red  running 
through  it  in  vagrant  strands,  fluffed  from  under 


30  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID. 

the  hat.  The  skirt  of  her  traveling  suit,  some  light 
substantial  material,  reached  the  span  of  a  hand 
above  the  ankle.  White  shoes,  silk  stockings  that 
matched  and  through  which  glowed  the  faint  pink 
of  firm,  healthy,  young  flesh,  lent  charm  to  the  cos- 
tume she  wore.  Her  lips  were  red  and  moist  and 
parted  over  teeth  that  were  strong  and  white.  A 
saucy  upward  tilt  to  the  nose,  hinting  that  Carolyn 
June  was  a  flirt ;  brown  eyes  that  were  level  almost 
with  Skinny's  and  that  held  in  them  a  laugh  and  yet 
deep  below  the  mirth  something  thoughtful,  honest 
and  unafraid,  finished  the  wreck  of  the  cowboy's 
susceptible  heart.  Trim  and  smooth  was  Carolyn 
June,  suggesting  to  Skinny  Rawlins  a  clean-bred 
filly  of  saddle  strain  that  has  developed  true  to 
form. 

Old  Heck  gazed  in  equal  awe  at  the  more  ma- 
ture Ophelia. 

Somewhere  near  forty  she  may  have  been,  cozily 
plump  and  solid.  She  had  gray-blue  eyes  that  were 
steady  and  frank  yet  clearly  accustomed  to  being 
obeyed.  Her  hair  was  a  trifle  darker  in  shade  than 
the  silky  brown  on  the  head  of  Carolyn  June.  She 
was  dressed  with  immaculate  neatness  and  taste  and 
carried  that  well-preserved  assurance  no  woman  in 
the  world  save  the  American  of  mature  development 
acquires. 

There  was  energy  in  every  line  of  her  body  and 
Ophelia  gave  Old  Heck,  the  embarrassed  owner  of 
the  Quarter  Circle  KT,  more  thrills  in  that  one  mo- 


WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH  31 

ment  of  silent  scrutiny  than  he  ever  before  had  felt 
in  the  presence  of  any  woman. 

As  they  looked,  Skinny  and  Old  Heck  instinc- 
tively, a  bit  awkwardly  perhaps,  removed  the  Stet- 
sons they  wore  on  their  heads. 

"Howdy-do!"  Old  Heck  finally  managed  to  say. 

Skinny  gulped  like  an  echo,  another  "Howdy-do !" 
in  the  direction  of  Carolyn  June. 

"I  reckon  you  are  Carolyn  June  and  Missus 
Ophelia  Cobb,"  Old  Heck  stammered.  "Which  one 
of  you  is  which?"  unconsciously  paying  tribute  to 
the  well  preserved  youthfulness  of  the  widow. 

"Oh,  Ophelia,  beware!"  Carolyn  June  laughed, 
not  in  the  least  offended;  "the  gay  old  rascal  is  at 
it  already!" 

"He  didn't  mean  nothing"  Skinny  interposed, 
sensing  that  Old  Heck  some  way  had  made  a  blun- 
der. "I  guess  you  must  be  Carolyn  June?"  looking 
questioningly  at  the  girl. 

"Excuse  me,"  Old  Heck  said,  "I'm  your  uncle,  I 
suppose,  and  this  is  Skinny  Rawlins — " 

"Howdy-do;  I'm  glad  to  meet  you,"  Skinny  mut- 
tered, reaching  for  the  hand  Carolyn  June  frankly 
extended. 

"I'm  glad,  too,"  she  replied  candidly;  "and  this 
is  Mrs.  Ophelia  Cobb — just  Ophelia — Uncle  Jo- 
siah,"  Carolyn  added,  turning  to  Old  Heck  who 
clumsily  shook  hands  with  the  widow  while  his 
weather-tanned  face  flushed  a  burning,  uncomfort- 
able red. 


32  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"We  was  expecting  you,"  he  said,  retaining  his 
-hold  on  her  hand. 

""That  was  very  kind,"  Ophelia  murmured.  "I  am 
'sure  we  are  delighted  to  be  here." 

"Now  I  guess  we  are  all  acquainted,"  Carolyn 
June  said  with  a  little  laugh.  "It's  easy  for  folks 
to  get  acquainted,  isn't  it?"  turning  suddenly  to 
Skinny. 

"Seems  like  it  after  they  once  get  started,"  Skinny 
answered. 

"We'd  better  be  heading  for  home  I  reckon,"  Old 
Heck  said,  releasing  at  last  the  widow's  hand  and 
lifting  the  bags  in  the  car.  "Sing  Pete  will  have 
dinner  ready  by  the  time  we  get  there." 

"We  have  some  trunks,"  Carolyn  June  said,  "can 
we  take  them  with  us  ?" 

"Yes,"  Old  Heck  replied,  "get  in,  and  we'll  drive 
over  to  the  depot  and  get  them." 

With  Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia  in  the  rear  seat 
and  Skinny  and  himself  in  the  front  Old  Heck  drove 
the  car  across  to  the  station  and  the  trunks  were 
fastened  with  ropes  on  the  hood  of  the  engine  and 
"running-boards  of  the  car. 

As  they  started  away  Carolyn  June  asked: 

"Which  way  now,  Uncle  Josiah?" 

"Out  to  the  ranch." 

"Hadn't  we  better  stop  at  the  drug  store,"  she 
asked  soberly,  "and  get  some  medicine?" 

"Medicine?  Who  for?"  Old  Heck  inquired  in- 
nocently. 


WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH  33 

"Why,  the  patients,  of  course,"  Carolyn  June  an- 
swered with  a  mischievous  chuckle. 

"What  patients?" 

"Out  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  where  that  epi- 
demic of  smallpox  is  raging!"  she  answered  sweetly. 

"That's  all  a  mistake,"  Old  Heck  said  hastily;  "we 
thought  is  was  smallpox  but  it  wasn't — " 

"No,  everybody's  got  over  it,"  Skinny  added  ner- 
vously ;  "they're  all  cured !" 

"Yes,  they  was  just  broke  out  with  the  heat  and 
didn't  have  the  smallpox  at  all — "  Old  Heck  ex- 
plained. 

"Liars,  both  of  them,"  Carolyn  June  said  laugh- 
ingly to  Ophelia ;  "they  just  didn't  want  us  to  come !" 

"Very  likely,"  Ophelia  answered. 

"No,  honest,  we  thought  we  had  it,"  Old  Heck 
stammered. 

"We  were  plumb,  uneasy  for  fear  you  wouldn't 
arrive,"  Skinny  declared.  "After  we  found  out  it 
wasn't  smallpox  we  were  going  to  send  a  special 
delivery  message  and  tell  you  it  was  all  a  misunder- 
standing and  to  come  anyhow !" 

"Shall  we  forgive  them?"  Carolyn  June  asked 
the  widow. 

"Perhaps,  this  time — their  first  offense !" 

"I'll  tell  you,"  Carolyn  June  said,  "we'll  suspend 
sentence  pending  good  behavior !" 

Skinny  leaned  close  to  Old  Heck. 

"Stop  a  minute  at  the  Golden  Rule,"  he  whis- 
pered, "I  want  to  do  some  personal  trading." 


34  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"If  it  ain't  important,"  Old  Heck  answered,  "we 
oughtn't  to  take  the  time.  What  do  you  want  to 
buy?" 

"I  want  to  get  me  a  white  shirt — " 

"Gosh,"  Old  Heck  exclaimed,  "that  bad  already ! 
What'll  he  be  in  a  week?" 

"Did  you  speak,  Uncle  Josiah?"  Carolyn  asked. 

"Huh — no,  I — Skinny  just  thought  I  was  going 
to  hit  a  rock!"  he  answered,  and  giving  the  engine 
more  gas,  he  headed  the  car,  at  a  thirty-mile  clip, 
toward  the  east  and  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 

The  party  rode  in  silence.  The  speed  of  the  car 
and  the  fan  of  the  warm  wind  against  their  faces 
made  conversation  difficult.  A  mile  from  Eagle 
Butte  they  crossed  the  long,  low,  iron-railed  bridge 
over  the  Cimarron  River  and  climbed  out  on  to  the 
bench  away  from  the  bottom  lands.  From  that 
point  on  to  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  the  road  followed 
the  brow  of  the  bench  on  the  south  side  of  the  river. 
It  was  smooth  and  good. 

Carolyn  June  thrilled  at  the  bigness  of  it  all  as 
they  swept  quickly  past  the  irrigated  district  close 
to  the  town  and  sped  out  on  the  open  unfenced 
range.  For  miles  the  country  was  level  with  here 
and  there  arroyos  cross-sectioning  into  the  river 
valley.  Long  stretches  with  the  barest  undulations 
made  driving  a  joy  and  the  winding  road  was  a 
natural  speedway.  Scattered  over  the  plain  were 
clusters  of  mesquit  and  in  the  low  sags  where  mois- 
ture was  near  the  surface  patches  of  thorns.  Caro- 


WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH  35 

lyn  June  loved  the  width  and  breadth  of  the  great 
range,  strange  and  new  to  her.  Here  was  freedom 
sweeping  as  the  winds  of  heaven.  Dimly,  on  the 
southern  horizon  she  could  see  the  blue  outline  of 
Sentinel  Mountain  standing  alone  out  on  the  plain. 
To  the  left  green  pasture-lands  lay  along  the  river. 
A  narrow  strip  of  cottonwood  trees  marked  the 
curving  path  of  the  Cimarron.  Beds  of  white  quick- 
sand, treacherous  and  fatal  and  dreaded  by  every 
rider  of  the  open  country  could  be  seen,  occasionally, 
through  openings  in  the  trees  showing  the  bed  of 
the  river  itself.  In  the  distance  behind  them  was 
Eagle  Butte,  towering  above  the  town  they  had  left 
a  few  brief  moments  before,  and  beyond  tha't  the 
Costejo  Mountains,  rugged  and  massive  and  cov- 
ered in  part  on  their  lower  slopes  with  blue-green 
thickets  of  pine.  Across  the  river  was  a  choppy 
sea  of  sand-dunes  stretching  away  to  the  north  as 
far  as  sight  could  reach.  Here  and  there  a  high- 
flung  mound,  smooth  and  oval  or  capped  with  ledges 
of  black,  glistening  rock  broke  the  monotony  of 
the  view. 

Engrossed  in  the  study  of  the  almost  primitive 
picture  Carolyn  June  forgot  the  flight  of  time  and 
the  speed  at  which  they  were  traveling. 

"Yonder' s  the  ranch!"  Skinny  announced  sud- 
denly, turning  half  around  in  his  seat  and  pointing 
ahead  and  to  the  left  toward  the  river. 

The  valley  widened  till  it  was  a  mile  or  more 
across.  The  Cimarron  swung  sharply  to  the  north 


36  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

and  hugged  the  foot  of  the  bench  as  if  unwilling  to 
spoil  the  meadowlands  past  which  it  flowed.  In  a 
great  half-crescent — "Quarter  Circle,"  Old  Heck 
called  it — the  green  basin-like  area  lay  spread  out  be- 
fore them.  It  was  a  half  dozen  miles  in  length, 
reaching  from  the  canyon  gate  at  the  upper  end  of 
the  valley  where  the  river  turned  abruptly  north- 
ward, to  the  narrow  gorge  at  the  south  through 
which  it  disappeared. 

A  blue  crane  lazily  flapped  across  the  valley. 

"Seven  thousand  acres  in  the  bottoms,"  Skinny 
volunteered. 

"Beautiful !"  Carolyn  breathed. 

"Splendid !"  Ophelia  exclaimed. 

Half-way  down  the  valley,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  the  bench,  the  buildings  of  the  Quarter  Circle 
KT  clustered  together  in  a  group — the  low  adobe 
house,  bunk  shack,  stables,  graineries.  Out  in  the 
fields  were  hay  yards  with  half-built  stacks  of  alfalfa 
— over  the  tops  of  the  stacks  white  tarpaulins.  In 
a  pasture  beyond  the  house  were  horses  and  cattle, 
perhaps  a  hundred  head  in  all.  Climbing  the  hills 
north  of  the  river  were  a  number  of  moving  figures, 
dimly  seen  through  the  haze. 

"Are  those  cattle,"  Carolyn  June  asked,  "those 
things  across  the  river?" 

"Where?"  Skinny  inquired. 

"Over  there,  on  the  hills,"  pointing  toward  the 
objects. 


WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH  37 

Old  Heck  glancing  in  the  direction  she  indicated 
answered  for  Skinny: 

"That's  Parker  and  the  boys,  going  over  to  the 
North  Springs — they're  checking  up  on  some  year- 
lings we  just  turned  across  from  this  side  of  the 
range."  Then,  speaking  to  Skinny:  "They've  al- 
ready had  their  dinner  and  won't  be  in  till  supper- 
time — " 

"Are  they  cowboys  ?"  Carolyn  June  asked. 

"I  reckon,"  Old  Heck  responded. 

"Is  Skinny  one  ?"  she  inquired  naively. 

"Sort  of,  I  suppose,"  Old  Heck  chuckled  while 
Skinny  felt  his  face  coloring  up  with  embarrass- 
ment, "but  not  a  wild  one." 

"Oh,  who  is  that?"  Carolyn  June  cried  suddenly 
as  a  lone  rider  whirled  out  of  the  corral,  around  the 
stables,  and  his  horse  sprang  into  a  gallop  straight 
down  the  valley  toward  the  narrows  at  its  lower 
end. 

"That,"  Skinny  said  after  a  quick  glance,  "oh, 
that's  th'  Ramblin'  Kid — Where  in  thunder  do  you 
reckon  the  darned  fool's  going  now?"  he  added  to 
Old  Heck. 

"Can't  tell  nothing  about  where  he's  going,"  Old 
Heck  said.  "He's  liable  to  be  heading  for  anywhere. 
What's  he  riding?"  he  asked  without  looking  up. 

"Captain  Jack,"  Skinny  replied.  "Wonder  if  he 
ain't  going  over  to  Battle  Ridge  to  find  out  if  it's  so 
about  them  sheep  coming  in  over  there  ?" 


38  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Maybe,"  Old  Heck  grunted,  "either  that  or  else 
he's  took  a  notion  to  hunt  that  Gold  Dust  maverick 
again" — referring  to  a  strange,  wonderfully  beau- 
tiful, outlaw  filly  that  had  appeared  on  the  Kiowa 
range  a  year  before  and  tormented  the  riders  by  her 
almost  fiendish  cunning  in  dodging  corral  or  rope — 
"if  he's  riding  Captain  Jack  that's  probably  what 
he's  after." 

"Who  is  he,  what's  his  real  name  ?"  Carolyn  June 
asked  with  interest. 

"Just  th'  Ramblin'  Kid,  as  far  as  I  know,"  Old 
Heck  answered. 

"Does  he  live  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT?"  Caro- 
lyn June  continued  curiously  as  she  studied  the 
slender  form  rising  and  falling  with  the  graceful 
rhythm  of  his  horse's  motion — as  if  man  and  animal 
were  a  single  living,  pulsing  creature. 

"Off  and  on,"  Old  Heck  replied,  "when  he 
wants  to  he  does  and  when  he  don't  he  don't.  He's 
a  witch  with  horses  and  knows  he's  always  got  a 
job  if  he  wants  it,  and  I  reckon  that  makes  him  kind 
of  undependable  about  staying  in  any  one  place  long 
at  a  time.  That's  why  they  call  him  th'  Ramblin' 
Kid — he's  liable  to  ramble  any  minute." 

The  car  curled  down  the  narrow  dugway  off  of 
the  bench  and  a  moment  later  stopped  at  the  gate 
in  front  of  the  ranch  house  of  the  Quarter  Cir- 
cle KT. 

"We're  here,"  Skinny  said,  as  Sing  Pete,  the  Chi- 
nese cook,  appeared  at  the  open  door. 


WHICH  ONE'S  WHICH  39 

"They've  come,  Sing  Pete,"  Old  Heck  called, 
climbing  out  of  the  car;  "this  is  them!  Is  dinner 
ready?" 

"All  leady — waitee !"  the  Oriental  answered,  shuf- 
fling out  to  the  car  to  help  with  the  luggage  and 
twisting  and  squirming  as  he  kept  bowing  in  greeting. 

"This  is  great !"  Carolyn  June  said,  as  she  stepped 
on  the  long  cool  porch  in  front  of  the  house  and 
paused  a  moment  before  entering  the  open  door, 
" — it's  cool  and  pleasant,  I'm  going  to  like  it,"  she 
added,  as  she  went  into  the  big  low-ceilinged  room. 

The  floor  was  bare  of  carpet  but  spotlessly  clean; 
shades,  but  no  curtains,  were  over  the  windows ;  in 
the  center  stood  a  large  flat-topped  reading  table ;  at 
one  end  of  the  table  was  a  Morris  chair  upholstered 
in  brown  Spanish  leather;  a  wolf-skin  rug  was 
thrown  on  the  floor  before  an  old-fashioned  Mexi- 
can fireplace  built  into  one  corner  of  the  room;  in 
another  corner  was  a  smaller  table  on  which  was  a 
graphophone;  a  rocker  and  several  chairs  were  set 
about  the  room  and  against  the  north  wall ;  between 
two  doors,  evidently  opening  into  twin  bedrooms, 
was  an  upright  grand  piano — . 

"Oh,  a  piano!"  Carolyn  June  exclaimed  de- 
lightedly noticing  the  instrument.  "Who  plays?" 

"Nobody,"  Old  Heck  answered  foolishly,  "I— I 

—well,  what's  the  use  of  lying? — I  bought  it  one 

day,  before  prohibition  come,  when  I  was  drunk  and 

just  had  it  brought  out  because  I  didn't  know  what 

else  to  do  with  it — " 


40  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"You  funny  old  uncle!"  Carolyn  June  laughed, 
"I  love  you  already.  — Ophelia  plays,"  she  added. 

"Not  so  well  or  so  much  as  Carolyn  June," 
Ophelia  said. 

"Maybe  we'll  have  some  music  then  some  day 
that  ain't  canned,"  Skinny  suggested  eagerly. 

"You  women  can  use  them  rooms,"  Old  Heck 
said,  referring  to  the  doors  on  each  side  of  the 
piano.  "Parker  and  me  did  have  them  but  we've 
arranged  to  sleep  in  the  bunk-house  while  you  are 
here." 

"Carolyn  June  and  I  need  but  one,"  Ophelia  said, 
"it  isn't  fair  to  run  you  out — " 

"You  ain't  running  us,"  Old  Heck  answered, 
"we've  talked  it  over  and  would  rather." 

After  dinner  Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June  spent 
their  time  in  settling  themselves  in  their  rooms.  A 
small  bath  closet  connected  the  two — crude  a  bit  and 
somewhat  unfinished;  but  a  hot  tub,  the  water  sup- 
plied from  a  tank  at  the  kitchen  range,  was  enjoyed 
by  both. 

Old  Heck  and  Skinny  helped  with  the  trunks  and 
then  withdrew  to  the  bunk-house. 

Old  Heck  shaved  and  Skinny  put  on  a  clean  shirt. 

Skinny  was  not  sure  but  this  official  love-making 
job  was  going  to  be  interesting  work  and  Old  Heck 
himself  was  uncertain  whether  to  cuss  or  rejoice — 
sometimes  he  was  almost  sorry  to-morrow  would 
be  Parker's  day  to  love  and  entertain  Ophelia. 


THE  UNUSED  PLATE 

A!'  sundown,  when  Parker  and  the  cowboys  rode 
in  from  the  northern  hills,  the  Quarter  Circle 
KT  lay  under  a  mantle  of  sullen,  torturing  heat. 
Not  a  breath  of  air  fanned  the  poplars,  straight  and 
motionless,  in  front  of  the  house.  The  sun  buried 
itself  in  a  solid  wall  of  black  that  rose  above  the 
Costejo  peaks,  hidden  now  in  the  shadow  of  the 
coming  storm.  The  horses  were  dripping  with  sweat 
— their  coats  as  glossy  and  wet  as  if  they  had  swum 
the  river.  At  the  corral  the  animals  wearily  tossed 
their  heads,  low  hung  with  exhaustion,  seeking  to 
shift  the  sticky  clutch  of  head-stall  or  hackamore, 
while  their  riders  dismounted  and  quickly  removed 
saddle  and  riding  gear.  Freed  from  their  burdens 
the  bronchos  dragged  tired  heels  through  the  dust 
as  they  whirled  and  trotted  unsteadily  away  to  the 
pasture,  eager  to  roll  and  relax  their  aching  muscles. 

"Holy  cats,  but  it's -hot!"  Bert  Lilly  exclaimed 
as  he  slipped  off  his  chaps  and  started  toward  the 
house,  leaving  saddle  and  outfit  lying  beside  the  gate 
of  the  corral. 

"Better  put  them  things  in  the  shed,"  Parker  ad- 
vised, "looks  like  a  whale  of  a  storm  is  coming." 

41 


42  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Reckon  that's  right,"  Bert  answered,  turning" 
t>ack  and  carrying  his  riding  gear  into  the  shelter 
where  the  other  cowboys  already  had  taken  theirs. 

"Wonder  if  them  women  come?"  Chuck  Slithers 
queried  as  they  moved  toward  the  gate. 

"More  than  likely — Bet  Skinny  and  Old  Heck 
have  had  a  hell  of  a  time  making  love  to  'em," 
Charley  Saunders  remarked. 

"You  want  to  be  careful  about  cussin',"  Parker 
warned.  "It  ain't  polite  when  women  are  around !" 

"Listen  at  him!"  Bert  said  with  a  laugh,  "prac- 
tising already — Parker  is  getting  polite — to-morrow 
is  his  day  to  be  affectionate  to  the  widow,  Ophelia — " 

"Which  is  she,  Parker,"  Charley  asked  soberly, 
"a  grass  or  natural  ?" 

"Shut  up,  you  blamed  fools,  they're  liable  to  hear 
you,"  Parker  growled  angrily.  "Anyhow,  it  ain't 
my  fault  they  come !" 

"Parker  oughtn't  to  kick,"  Chuck  chimed  in, 
"look  at  poor  old  Skinny — he's  got  a  steady  job 
lovin'  the  other  one !" 

"Darned  if  I  wouldn't  rather  love  both  of  them 
at  once,"  Charley  observed,  "than  to  take  another 
ride  like  that  was  to-day.  I'm  kind  of  anxious  to 
see  what  they  look  like,"  he  continued. 

"Well,  don't  go  and  get  excited  at  the  supper 
table  and  eat  your  pie  with  a  spoon !"  Chuck  laughed. 

"Aw,  hell,"  Charley  retorted,  "I  guess  I  know 
how  to  act — " 

"Old  Heck's  going  to  buy  some  finger-bowls  for 


THE  UNUSED  PLATE  43 

you  to  wash  your  hands  in,"  Bert  said  scornfully, 
"him  and  Parker—" 

"Shut  up,  I  told  you,  you  darned  idiots,"  Parker 
snapped.  "They're  out  on  the  front  porch  and  can 
hear  you !" 

"Be  careful  about  your  cussin' — "  Bert  mimicked 
with  a  snicker. 

Notwithstanding  their  raillery  every  man  in  the 
group,  including  Pedro,  gave  unusual  care  to  scrub- 
bing his  face  and  smoothing  his  hair  preparatory  to 
entering  the  kitchen  for  supper  and  where  they 
would  meet,  for  the  first  time,  Ophelia  and  Carolyn 
June. 

Sing  Pete  glided  out  of  the  kitchen  door  and  ham- 
mered the  triangle  announcing  the  evening  meal. 

At  the  instant  Parker  and  the  cowboys  filed  into 
the  kitchen  from  the  rear,  Ophelia  and  Carolyn 
June,  followed  by  Old  Heck  and  Skinny  Rawlins, 
both  looking  sheepish  and  somewhat  ashamed, 
stepped  into  the  room  from  the  front. 

All  stood  waiting  and  Old  Heck,  ill  at  ease  and  in 
a  voice  that  trembled,  gave  the  party  formal  intro- 
duction : 

"Missus  Ophelia  Cobb  and  Miss  Carolyn  June 
Dixon,"  motioning  first  at  the  widow  and  then  the 
girl,  "Mister  Parker,  Mister  Bert  Lilly,  Mister  Char- 
ley Saunders,  Mister  Chuck  Slithers,  Mister  Pedro 
Valencia — "  indicating  each  in  turn  with  his  hand  as 
he  called  the  names,  " — I  reckon  you're  already  ac- 
quainted with  Skinny !" 


44  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

The  cowboys  mumbled  greetings  which  Carolyn 
June  and  Ophelia  graciously  acknowledged. 

Sing  Pete  had  laid  two  extra  covers. 

"You  boys  can  take  your  regular  places — all  ex- 
cept you,  Parker,"  Old  Heck  said,  " — you  set  at 
that  side  on  this  end,"  pointing  to  the  seat  at  the 
left  next  to  the  head  of  the  table.  "Carolyn  June, 
you  can  set  at  that  end  and  Ophelia  at  this  end — I'll 
set  here,"  taking  the  seat  at  the  widow's  right  and 
directly  across  from  Parker. 

This  placed  Old  Heck,  Bert  Lilly,  Pedro  and 
Skinny  Rawlins  on  the  right  of  the  table  in  the  order 
named,  Skinny  sitting  at  the  end  on  Carolyn's  left. 
On  the  opposite  side  sat  Parker,  Chuck  Slithers  and 
Charley.  Next  to  Charley,  at  the  right  of  Carolyn 
June,  and  opposite  Skinny,  was  a  vacant  chair. 

"Who  is  this  for?"  Carolyn  June  inquired,  indi- 
cating the  unoccupied  seat. 

"That's  th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  place,"  Old  Heck  re- 
plied ;  "he  may  come  in  and  again  he  mayn't — 

"It  was  him  you  saw  to-day,"  Skinny  added, 
"riding  down  toward  the  Narrows  when  we  was 
coming  from  Eagle  Butte." 

"Do  you  know  where  he  went,  Parker?"  Old 
Heck  asked. 

"No.  When  we  started  over  to  the  Springs  he 
was  here.  Said  he  reckoned  we  could  get  along 
without  him  and  he  wouldn't  go — " 

"He's  just  got  one  of  them  lonesome  spells,"  Bert 
said,  "and  wanted  to  get  off  by  himself  somewhere." 


THE  UNUSED  PLATE  45 

"He  knowed  we  was  going  to  have  company,  too/' 
Chuck  observed. 

"More  than  likely  that's  why  he  went,"  Skinny 
suggested. 

"Is  he  afraid  of  women?"  Carolyn  June  laughed. 

"Not  particularly,"  Skinny  replied;  "he  don't 
bother  with  them,  that's  all." 

"I  think  he  went  after  that  Gold  Dust  maverick/' 
Charley  said.  "He'll  probably  come  in  when  he 
sees  how  it's  going  to  storm — " 

"He  don't  give  a  darn  for  storms,"  Bert  declared. 
" — Pass  them  frijoles,  Pedro. —  Remember  that 
time  it  blowed  the  hay  derrick  down  and  he  wouldn't 
come  to  the  house,  just  stayed  out  and  watched  the 
wind  and  lightning?" 

"He  is  funny  that  way,"  Charley  admitted. 

"Well,  he'll  never  catch  that  mare,"  Parker  said, 
"she's  too—" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know/'  Chuck  interrupted,  "look 
how  he  has  tamed  Captain  Jack,"  referring  to  the 
Ramblin'  Kid's  own  horse,  one  time  a  famous  rene- 
gade. 

"How  was  that?"  Carolyn  June  inquired  care- 
lessly. 

"Captain  Jack  was  an  outlaw,  too,"  Bert  ex- 
plained. "He  run  over  on  the  East  Mesa  on  the 
Una  de  Gata.  Charley  and  me  and  th'  Ramblin' 
Kid  got  him  to  going  one  day  when  there  was  some 
ranch  mares  in  his  bunch.  One  of  them  was  a  hand- 
raised  filly,  was  a  pet  and  she  was — well,  pretty  hot  I 


46  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

We  worked  them  over  the  rim  of  the  Mesa  and  into 
the  canyon,  it  was  a  box-gorge  from  where  they  hit 
it  to  its  head,  and  at  the  upper  end  there  was  a  wing 
corral.  The  mare  swung  up  the  canyon  towards 
the  ranch  and — Jack  wouldn't  quit  her!  We  was 
pounding  right  on  their  heels  and  before  he  knowed 
it  we  had  them  penned — •" 

"That  shows  what  happens  when  a  he-thing  goes 
locoed  over  a  female  critter,"  Chuck  whispered  to 
Parker;  "you  and  Old  Heck  want  to  watch  out!" 

"Be  careful,  you  danged  fool!"  Parker  hissed  as 
he  kicked  at  Chuck's  shins  under  the  table.  Excited, 
he  made  a  mistake  in  the  foot  he  should  have  used 
and  viciously  slammed  his  left  toe  against  Ophelia's 
dainty  ankle. 

The  widow  looked  startled  and  suddenly  sat  up 
very  straight  in  her  chair. 

Parker  realized  his  error,  turned  red,  choked, 
leaned  close  to  Chuck  and  breathed  hoarselyt  ''I'll 
kill  you  some  day  for  that !" 

"He  sure  went  crazy  when  he  found  he  W33  cor- 
raled,"  Charley  said,  "and  forgot  all  about  the 
mare." 

"He  sure  did,"  Bert  continued,  while  Carolyn 
June  listened  intently,  "and  was  plumb  wild  to  bu'st 
down  the  pen  and  be  free  again.  Charley  nor  me 
didn't  want  him  and  so  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  said  he'd 
take  him.  Just  then  Tony  Malush — we  was  punch- 
in'  for  him — come  riding  up  and  was  going  to  shoot 
Captain  Jack  on  account  of  wanting  to  clean  the 


THE  UNUSED  PLATE  47 

range  of  the  outlaw  stallions.  He  yanked  out  his 
gun  and  started  to  pull  a  drop  on  old  Jack's  head. 
Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  jerked  his  own  forty- four  and 
told  Tony  he'd  kill  him  if  he  shot  the  renegade 
broncho.  Tony  backed  up,  but  it  made  him  sore 
and  he  fired  th'  Ramblin'  Kid.  The  darned  little  cuss 
set  there  a  minute  thinking,  then  slid  off  his  horse, 
stripped  him  of  riding  gear,  flung  saddle,  blanket 
and  bridle  over  the  bars  into  the  corral.  Before  we 
knowed  what  he  was  aiming  to  do  he  climbed  up 
and  dropped  down  inside,  on  foot,  with  just  his 
rope,  and  faced  that  outlaw  battin'  around  trying 
to  get  outside — " 

Carolyn  June  leaned  forward  on  the  table  listen- 
ing with  breathless  interest.  The  others  stopped 
eating  and  gave  all  their  attention  to  the  story  Bert 
was  telling. 

"Captain  Jack  saw  him,  stopped  for  just  a  second, 
sort  of  surprised,  then  went  right  at  th'  Ramblin' 
Kid — head  down,  eyes  blazin'  like  coals,  mouth  wide 
open,  ears  laid  back  and  strikin'  with  both  front 
feet—" 

"He  was  some  wicked!"  Charley  ejaculated. 

"He  sure  was,"  Bert  went  on.  "Tony  and  Char- 
ley and  me  just  set  on  our  horses  stunned — thinkin' 
th'  Kid  had  gone  clean  loco  and  was  fiirtin'  with 
certain  and  pronto  death.  As  Captain  Jack  rushed 
him  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  give  a  jump  sideways,  his 
rope  went  true,  a  quick  run  to  the  snubbin'  post  and 
he  throwed  him  dead!  The  broncho  hit  his  feet, 


48  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

give  a  squeal  and  come  straight  back !  Th'  Ramblin' 
Kid  run  once  more,  yankin'  like  blazes  to  get  the 
slack!  That  time  when  he  went  down — well,  before 
we  realized  it,  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  had  him  bridled  and 
saddled  and  was  safe  on  deck — " 

"I'm  tellin'  you  too,  Captain  Jack  went  higher 
than  a  kite  when  he  felt  the  rowels  in  his  flanks !" 
Charley  interrupted. 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  yelled  for  us  to  let  him  out," 
Bert  continued.  "Charley  and  me  flung  down  the 
bars  to  the  corral  and  Captain  Jack  come  out  sun- 
fishin'  and  hittin'  the  breeze  like  a  streak  of  twisted 
lightning!  That  was  just  before  dinner  in  the  fore- 
noon. That  afternoon  and  night  th'  Ramblin'  Kid 
rode  the  outlaw  to  the  Hundred  and  One — ninety 
miles  away !  We  didn't  see  either  of  them  any  more 
for  a  month  and  when  they  hit  the  Kiowa  again 
Captain  Jack  was  a  regular  baby  after  th'  Ramblin' 
Kid  and  would  follow  him  around  like  a  dog — " 

"That's  the  way  he's  been  ever  since,"  Charley 
said,  "them  two  are  just  like  sweethearts." 

"Nobody  else  ever  rides  him — "  Bert  added. 

"They  can't,"  Chuck  said.  "He's  a  one-man 
horse  and  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  is  the  man.  Captain 
Jack  would  die  for  th'  Ramblin'  Kid!" 

"Yes,  and  kill  any  one  else  if  he  could!"  Parker 
exclaimed. 

"Has  no  one  but — but  the  Ramblin'  Kid" — Caro- 
lyn June  hesitated  queerly  over  the  name — "ever 
ridden  him?" 


THE  UNUSED  PLATE  49 

"Never  that  we  know  of,"  Bert  said;  "several 
have  tried  it — the  last  one  was  a  fellow  from  down 
on  the  Chickasaw.  Guess  he  was  trying  to  steal 
him.  Anyway,  we  was  all  up  at  Eagle  Butte  and 
had  left  our  horses  out  in  front  of  the  Occidental 
Hotel  while  we  was  in  the  dining-room  eating  our 
dinners.  We  got  outside  just  in  time  to  see  the 
stranger  hit  the  ground  and  Captain  Jack  jump  on 
him  with  all  four  feet  doubled  up  in  a  bunch — he's 
buried  in  that  little  graveyard  you  might  have 
noticed  on  the  hill  this  side  of  the  river  bridge." 

"Killed  him?"  Carolyn  June  gasped. 

"Seemed  like  it,"  Bert  answered,  with  a  grin; 
"anyway,  we  buried  him." 

"What  did  the— the  Ramblin'  Kid  do?"  she  asked. 

"He  just  laughed  kind  of  soft  and  scornful," 
Skinny  said,  "and  got  on  Captain  Jack  and  rode 
away  while  we  was  picking  the  fellow  up !" 

During  the  rest  of  the  meal  Carolyn  June's  eyes 
looked  frequently  and  curiously  at  the  unused  plate 
at  her  right.  She  felt,  some  way,  that  an  affront 
had  been  shown  her  by  the  absence  of  the  one  for 
whom  it  was  laid.  The  other  cowboys,  it  was  quite 
evident  to  her  intuitive  woman's  mind,  had  looked 
forward  with  considerable  eagerness  to  the  arrival 
of  herself  and  Ophelia.  The  Ramblin'  Kid,  at  the 
very  moment  almost  of  their  reaching  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT,  had  deliberately  mounted  Captain  Jack 
and  ridden  away.  It  seemed  like  little  less  than  an 
intentional  snub !  In  addition  to  the  half-resentment 


50  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

she  felt,  there  remained  in  her  mind  an  insistent  and 
tormenting  'picture  of  the  slender,  subtle,  young 
rider  swaying  easily  to  the  swing  of  Captain  Jack 
as  he  galloped  down  the  valley  earlier  in  the  day. 

Bert,  Charley,  Chuck,  before  the  meal  was  fin- 
ished cast  frankly  admiring  glances  at  Carolyn 
June  and  Skinny  plainly  was  gaining  confidence  at 
a  rapid  rate,  while  Pedro,  silent  throughout  it  all, 
kept,  almost  constantly,  his  half -closed  eyes  fixed  in 
a  sidelong  look  at  the  girl  at  the  end  of  the  table. 

Attention  and  admiration,  Carolyn  June  expected 
from  men.  They  had  always  been  hers.  She  was 
beautiful  and  was  conscious  of  it.  Had  the  cow- 
boys of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  not  registered  ap- 
preciation of  her  charms  by  their  looks  Carolyn  June 
would  have  believed  something  was  wrong  with 
her  dress  or  the  arrangement  of  her  hair.  Her  eyes 
—she  was  sure  of  them — without  effort  lured  men 
to  her  feet. 

"It's  hotter  than  blue  blazes  in  here,"  Old  Heck 
said  when  all  had  finished;  "we'd  better  go  out  into 
the  big  room.  Maybe  Carolyn  June  will  play  some 
on  the  piano." 

"The  boys  and  me  will  go  on  out  on  the  porch," 
Parker  said  as  they  reached  the  front  room,  speak- 
ing significantly  to  Old  Heck,  but  in  a  tone  both 
Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June  heard.  "We'll  leave  you 
and  Skinny  with  the  ladies  and  not  intrude — " 

"You  won't  be  intruding  if  you  remain,"  Ophelia 
said  brightly.  "Carolyn  June  and  I  are  not  partial 


THE  UNUSED  PLATE  51 

at  all  and  want  you  to  feel  that  we  enjoy  meeting 
you  all." 

"Yes,  stay,"  Carolyn  June  added,  somewhat  re- 
luctant that  of  the  entire  group  only  one  should  be 
left  to  the  wiles  of  her  unconsciously  intentional  co- 
quetry; "there  is  plenty  of  room  in  here  and  it's 
cool—" 

"We're  much  obliged,"  Bert  said,  "but  we'd  bet- 
ter do  the  way  Parker  mentioned.  Anyhow  that 
was  the  agreement." 

"Agreement?"  Ophelia  spoke  with  a  questioning 
lift  of  her  brows. 

"Yes,"  Chuck  said,  evidently  trying  to  relieve  the 
embarrassment  of  Old  Heck,  Parker  and  Skinny 
who  looked  daggers  at  Bert  when  he  spoke  of  an 
agreement,  "Parker  and  Old  Heck  was  to  take  turn 
about — " 

"Bert  meant,"  Parker  interrupted  hastily,  " — he 
meant  they — they  had  to  agree  not  to  loaf  in  this 
room  before  Old  Heck  would  give  them  jobs  on  the 
Quarter  Circle  KT!" 

"Yes,"  Old  Heck  added  quickly,  "that  was  the 
bargain  on  account  of — of — getting  it  mussed  up 
and  everything  and  making  too  much  work  for  Sing 
Pete  to  clean  it  up !" 

Ophelia  arid  Carolyn  June  looked  curiously  at 
each  other  as  if  they  suspected  some  secret  that  had 
to  do  with  their  presence  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 

Outside,  the  cowboys  lounged  on  the  porch  or  lay 
spread  full  length  on  the  grass  smoking  their  ciga- 


52  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

rettes,  and  silent.  Each  was  busy  with  thoughts  of 
of  his  own.  Carolyn  June  had  been  very  impartial 
during  the  evening  meal,  distributing  her  smiles  and 
little  attentions  freely  among  them  all.  Now  she 
was  sitting  at  the  piano  playing  snatches  of  random 
melodies  as  they  came  to  her  mind,  while  Skinny 
sat  stiffly  on  a  high-backed  chair  at  the  corner  of  the 
instrument. 

A  drone  of  voices  reached  the  ears  of  Parker  and 
the  cowboys  as  Old  Heck,  skilfully  led  on  by 
Ophelia,  told  about  the  ranch,  the  Kiowa  range  and 
the  traditions  of  western  Texas. 

"Can  you  play  La  Palomaf"  Skinny  asked  as  Car- 
olyn June  paused  after  running  over  a  dainty  and 
vivacious  one-step,  memories  of  which  made  her 
think  of  Hartville  and  the  fashionable  ballrooms 
where  she  had  reigned  as  princess  at  least  if  not  as 
queen,  and  which  seemed  now  very  far  away. 

"I'm  afraid  not — unless  I  have  the  music,  but  I'll 
try,"  she  answered,  and  her  fingers  again  sought 
the  keys. 

The  dreamy  Mexican  air  drifted  seductively  out 
on  the  sultry  motionless  night. 

Bert  looked  through  the  window  and  saw  Skinny 
lean  back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  closed  and  an  expres- 
sion of  supreme  content  stealing  over  his  face. 

"Skinny's  gone — he's  surrendered,"  he  said  to 
Chuck,  lying  full  length  on  the  porch  at  his  side; 
"look  at  the  poor  cuss  with  his  eyes  shut  and  grin- 
ning as  if  he  was  seeing  visions  of  Paradise!" 


THE  UNUSED  PLATE  53 

"That  combination  would  capture  most  anybody," 
Chuck  answered.  "I'm  starting  to  feel  affectionate 
myself." 

Bert  didn't  reply,  Chuck  having  expressed  too 
nearly  his  own  swelling  emotions. 

"Uncle  Josiah!"  Carolyn  June  called,  suddenly 
whirling  around  on  the  piano  stool  as  she  finished 
the  last  bars  of  La  Paloma,  "may  I  have  a  horse?" 

Old  Heck,  grown  silent  under  the  spell  of  the 
music,  and,  like  Skinny,  sitting  dreaming  dreams 
that  almost  frightened  him,  started  quickly. 

"A — a  what?"  he  asked. 

"A  horse — "  she  answered,  "a  broncho  to  ride !" 

"Oh,  uh — sure!  Skinny,  go  get  her  one!"  he  re- 
plied confusedly. 

"Not  now,"  Carolyn  June  laughed,  "to-morrow 
- — any  time,  whenever  I  want  to  use  it !" 

"Can  you  ride  ?"  Skinny  asked  eagerly. 

"Ever  since  I  can  remember,"  Carolyn  June  said, 
"daddy  has  kept  horses — I  love  'em !  Ophelia  rides, 
too,"  she  added. 

"In  automobiles — "  Ophelia  corrected. 

"That's  a  good  arrangement,"  Skinny  said;  "it 
will  make  everything  work  out  all  right." 

"I  don't  understand,"  Carolyn  June  said;  "what 
arrangement  ?" 

"We'd  better  be  going  to  bed,  Skinny,"  Old  Heck 
interposed  anxiously,  "it's  getting  late !" 

"Guess  we  had,"  Skinny  said  reluctantly.  "Gosh, 
it's  warm  to-night !" 


54  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"You  can  leave  the  door  and  windows  open,"  Old 
Heck  said  to  Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June  as  he  and 
Skinny  moved  toward  the  door;  "we  don't  have 
burglars  out  here." 

Parker  and  the  cowboys  straightened  up  when 
they  heard  Skinny  and  Old  Heck  preparing  to  leave 
and  went  around  the  corner  of  the  building  toward 
the  bunk-house. 

Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June  stepped  out  on  the 
porch  with  Old  Heck  and  Skinny. 

The  air  was  oppressively  still  and  hot.  The  black 
cloud  bank  that  had  hung  over  the  Costejo  Moun- 
tains earlier  in  the  evening  now  covered  the  whole 
western  half  of  the  sky.  Night  sounds  seemed  al- 
most stifled  by  the  suffocating  heat.  From  the  pas- 
ture below  the  stables  the  faint  call  of  a  kill-deer 
suddenly  shrilled  out,  followed  by  intense  silence. 
No  lightning  flash  filled  the  wall-like  blackness 
slowly  creeping  over  the  earth  from  the  west.  A  pale 
glow  on  the  rim  of  the  rolling  hills  across  the  val- 
ley, herald  of  the  moon  not  yet  above  the  horizon, 
intensified  the  pall  beneath  the  approaching  cloud. 
A  sullen  roar,  throbbing  angrily,  rising  and  falling 
in  volume,  could  be  heard  coming  out  of  the  depths 
of  the  storm. 

"Acts  like  it's  going  to  be  a  bad  one,"  Old  Heck 
observed,  studying  the  cloud  they  all  were  watching. 

"Wicked,"  Skinny  said,  "one  of  them  mutterin* 
kind  until  it  breaks  and  then  all  hell  tears  loose." 


THE  UNUSED  PLATE  55 

"If  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  is  out  in  the  sand-hills  to- 
night he'll—" 

A  withering  stream  of  fire  poured  from  the  cloud 
almost  over  their  heads;  it  was  accompanied  by  a 
crashing  peal  of  thunder  that  rocked  the  earth  un- 
der their  feet  and  stopped  the  words  on  Old  Heck's 
lips.  The  flame  lighted  the  whole  valley.  They  had 
an  instant's  glimpse  of  a  writhing,  overhanging  cur- 
tain of  dust  and  rain  sweeping  toward  them.  In  the 
glare  they  saw  a  giant  cottonwood  that  stood  alone 
in  the  meadow  west  of  the  house  reel  and  sway  like 
a  drunken  thing  and  pitch  to  the  earth. 

"It's  here !  It  struck  that  tree !"  Old  Heck  yelled. 
"Run  for  the  bunk-house,  Skinny,  maybe  we  can 
make  it !  You  women  go  inside  and  shut  the  door !" 

Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia  sprang — were  blown 
almost — inside  the  house  and  slammed  the  door  as 
another  bolt  fell,  flooding  the  room  with  a  blaze 
that  made  the  light  from  the  lamp  on  the  reading 
table  seem  faint  and  dim.  Old  Heck  and  Skinny 
darted  around  the  corner  as  the  tempest  pulled  and 
tugged  at  the  buildings  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 

For  an  hour  Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June  sat  and 
listened  to  the  storm  and  while  it  still  raged  went 
to  bed. 

Carolyn  June  fell  asleep  watching  the  incessant 
glare  of  the  lightning  as  flash  after  flash  filled  the 
room  with  light  and  illumined  the  world  outside, 
while  the  rain  and  wind  lathed  the  trees  in  the  gar- 


56  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

den  near  her  window.  Above  the  tumult  the  words 
of  Old  Heck:  "If  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  is  out  in  the 
sand-hills  to-night" — kept  repeating  themselves  over 
and  over  in  her  mind.  Try  as  she  would,  she  could 
not  shut  out  the  picture  of  a  slender  young  rider, 
alone,  far  out  on  the  range  in  the  storm-mad  night, 
unsheltered  from  the  fury  and  wrath  of  the  ele- 
ments. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  DUEL  OF  ENDURANCE 

WHEN  the  storm  broke  over  the  Quarter  Cir- 
cle KT  the  Ramblin'  Kid  was  twenty  mile? 
away  following  the  Gold  Dust  maverick.  Old 
Heck's  surmise  that  he  had  gone  in  search  of  the 
outlaw  filly  was  but  half  correct.  It  was  not  with 
the  definite  purpose  of  trying  for  the  renegade  mare 
that  he  had  mounted  Captain  Jack  and  headed  him 
toward  the  Narrows  at  the  moment  Carolyn  June 
Dixon  and  Ophelia  Cobb  arrived  at  the  ranch.  Nor 
was  it  to  escape  meeting  the  women.  Their  coming 
meant  nothing  to  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 

He  simply  wanted  to  be  alone. 

The  ride  with  Parker  and  the  boys  to  the  North 
Springs  meant  talk.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  did  not  want 
to  talk.  He  wanted  to  be  with  his  thoughts,  his 
horse  and  silence.  » 

Should  he  happen  on  to  the  maverick  he  might 
give  her  a  run.  Since  her  first  appearance  on  the 
Kiowa,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had  seen  her  many  times. 
More  than  once,  from  a  distance,  he  had  watched  the 
mare,  getting  a  line  on  her  habits.  Sooner  or  later 
lie  expected  to  test  Captain  Jack's  endurance  and 

57 


58  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

skill  against  the  filly's  speed  and  cunning.  Without 
success  other  riders  of  the  Kiowa  had  tried  to  corral 
the  outlaw  or  get  within  roping  throw  of  her  shapely 
head.  So  far  she  had  proved  herself  faster  and 
more  clever  than  any  horse  ridden  against  her.  The 
Ramblin'  Kid  believed  Captain  Jack  was  master  of 
the  beautiful  mare,  that  in  a  battle  of  nerve  and 
muscle  and  wind  the  roan  stallion  could  run  her 
down.  Some  day  he  would  prove  it. 

At  the  Narrows  the  trail  forked.  One  branch 
turned  sharply  to  the  right  and  followed  a  coulee 
out  on  to  the  divide  between  the  Cimarron  and  the 
lower  Una  de  Gata;  the  other  swung  toward  the 
river,  slipped  into  it,  crossed  the  stream,  and  was  lost 
in  the  sand-hills  beyond. 

The  broncho,  of  his  own  will,  at  the  prongs  of 
the  road  wheeled  up  the  coulee  and  climbed  out  on. 
the  level  bench  south  of  the  Cimarron.  A  half- 
dozen  miles  away  Sentinel  Mountain  rose  abruptly 
out  of  the  plain.  Toward  the  lone  butte  Captain 
Jack  turned.  He  knew  the  place.  On  the  north  slope 
there  was  a  tiny  spring,  fenced  with  wire  to  keep 
the  stock  from  trampling  it  into  a  bog ;  near  by  was 
a  cluster  of  pifion  trees;  below  the  seep  in  the  nar- 
row gorge  was  a  thin  strip  of  willows.  It  was  a 
favorite  rendezvous  sought  by  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
when  in  moods  such  as  now  possessed  him.  Silently 
he  rode  to  the  group  of  pinons  and  dismounted. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  stretched  himself  under  the 
trees  while  Captain  Jack  drank  at  the  little  water 


A  DUEL  OF  ENDURANCE  59 

course.  Then,  with  his  bridle  off,  the  broncho  fed 
contentedly  on  the  bunch  grass  along  the  hillside. 
After  a  time  Captain  Jack  quit  feeding  and  came 
into  the  shade  of  the  pifions.  The  Ramblin'  Kid, 
flat  on  his  back,  stared  through  the  scant  foliage  of 
the  trees  into  the  sky — overcast  now  with  a  dim 
haze,  forerunner  of  the  storm  gathering  above  the 
Costejo  peaks.  Thousands  of  feet  in  the  air  a  buz- 
zard, merely  a  black  speck,  without  motion  of  wings, 
wheeled  in  great,  lazy,  ever-widening  circles. 

As  the  sun  dropped  into  the  cloud  bank  in  the 
west  a  band  of  mares  and  colts  came  from  that  di- 
rection and  rounded  a  spur  of  Sentinel  Mountain. 
At  their  heads  was  the  most  beautiful  horse  ever 
seen  on  the  Kiowa  range. 

In  color  a  coppery,  almost  golden,  chestnut  sor- 
rel ;  flaxen  mane  and  tail,  verging  on  creamy  white ; 
short-coupled  in  the  back  and  with  withers  that 
marked  the  runner;  belly  smooth  and  round;  legs 
trim  and  neat  as  an  antelope's  and  muscled  like  a 
panther's;  head  small,  carried  proudly  erect  and 
eyes  full  and  wonderfully  clear  and  brown. 

"Th'  filly!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  breathed,  "with  a 
bunch  of  Tony  Malush's  Anchor  Bar  mares  and 
colts !" 

Captain  Jack  saw  the  range  horses  and  lifted  his 
head. 

"Psst!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  hissed  and  the  neigh 
was  stopped. 

The  rangers  moved  toward  the  east  and  over  the 


60  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

crest  of  a  ridge  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  On  the 
flat  beyond  the  rise  they  stopped,  the  colts  immedi- 
ately teasing  the  mares  to  suck.  The  filly  withdrew 
a  short  distance  from  the  herd  and  stood  alert  and 
watchful. 

For  half  an  hour  the  Ramblin'  Kid  studied  the 
Gold  Dust  maverick. 

He  looked  at  the  clouds  climbing  higher  and 
higher  in  the  west,  then  long  and  thoughtfully  at 
Captain  Jack. 

"Let's  get  her,  Boy !"  he  murmured ;  "let's  go  an' 
get  her!" 

His  mind  made  up,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  slipped  the 
bridle  again  on  Captain  Jack,  removed  the  saddle 
and  with  the  blanket  wiped  the  sweat  from  the 
broncho's  back,  smoothed  the  blanket,  reset  the  sad- 
dle, carefully  tightened  front  and  rear  cinches  and 
mounting  the  little  stallion  guided  him  slowly  down 
the  ravine  in  the  direction  of  the  horses  on  the  flat. 
A  hundred  yards  away  the  mares  and  colts,  alarmed 
by  the  sudden  half- whinny,  half-snort,  from  the 
filly,  discovered  the  approaching  horse  and  rider. 

Instantly  the  wild  horses  crowded  closely  together 
and  galloped  toward  the  Una  de  Gata.  Captain  Jack 
leaped  into  a  run,  rushing  them.  The  maverick 
wheeled  quickly  and  dashed  away  to  the  south 
alone. 

"Her  pet  trick!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  muttered  as 
he  headed  Captain  Jack  after  the  nimble  creature, 
absodamnedlutely  will  not  bunch — seems  to 


A  DUEL  OF  ENDURANCE  61 

know  a  crowd  means  a  corral,  a  rope  and  at  last  a, 
rider  on  her  shapely  back !" 

For  two  miles  it  was  a  race.  The  Ramblin'  Kid 
held  Captain  Jack  to  a  steady  run  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred yards  in  the  rear  of  the  speeding  mare.  At 
last  he  pulled  the  stallion  down  to  a  trot.  The  Gold 
Dust  maverick  answered  by  running  another  fifty 
yards  and  then  herself  settling  into  the  slower  stride. 
"Like  I  thought,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  said  to  himself, 
"it's  a  case  of  wear  her  out — a  case  of  seasoned  old 
muscle  against  speedy  young  heels !" 

It  became  a  duel  of  endurance  between  Captain 
Jack,  wiry,  toughened  and  fully  matured,  with 
heavier  muscles,  and  the  nimble,  lighter-footed  Gold 
Dust  mare. 

At  dark  they  were  on  the  edge  of  the  Arroyo 
Grande  and  Captain  Jack  had  closed  the  distance 
between  them  until  less  than  a  hundred  yards  was 
between  the  heels  of  the  filly  and  the  head  of  the 
stallion  behind  her.  She  turned  east  along  the 
arroyo,  followed  it  a  mile,  seeking  a  crossing,  then 
doubled  straight  north  toward  the  Cimarron.  Cap- 
tain Jack  hung  to  her  trail  like  a  hound.  In  the 
blackness  that  preceded  the  storm  she  could  not  lose 
him.  With  almost  uncanny  sureness  he  picked  her 
out — following,  following,  never  giving  the  mav- 
erick a  moment's  rest.  Yet  it  seemed  that  the  dis- 
tance she  kept  ahead  was  measured,  so  alert  and 
watchful  was  she  always.  Both  were  dripping  with 
sweat.  Try  as  he  would,  it  seemed  impossible  for 


62  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Captain  Jack  to  win  those  few  yards  that  would  put 
the  filly  in  reach  of  the  rope  the  Ramblin'  Kid  held 
ready  to  cast  until  the  inky  darkness  made  it  im- 
possible to  risk  a  throw. 

The  mare  splashed  into  the  Cimarron. 

A  dazzling  zigzag  flash  of  lightning,  the  first  of 
the  storm,  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid  saw  the  filly  strug- 
gling in  the  yellow  wind-whipped  current.  A  mo- 
ment later  and  Captain  Jack  was  swimming  close 
behind  her.  On  the  north  side  of  the  river  the  mare 
yielded  to  the  drive  of  the  tempest  and  turned  east 
down  the  stream.  A  rocky  gorge  running  at  right 
angles  toward  the  north  offered  shelter  from  the 
lashing  wind  and  rain.  Up  the  ravine  the  maverick 
headed.  A  rush  of  muddy  water  down  the  canyon 
sent  pursued  and  pursuer  slipping  and  sliding  and 
climbing  for  safety  high  up  on  the  brush-covered, 
torrent-swept  hillside.  The  constant  blaze  and  trem- 
ble of  lightning  illumined  the  whole  range.  A  wolf, 
terrified  by  the  storm,  seeking  cover,  crouched  in 
the  shelter  of  a  black  rock-cliff.  The  Ramblin'  Kid 
saw  the  creature.  His  hand  instinctively  slipped  un- 
der his  slicker  and  gripped  the  gun  at  his  hip. 

"Hell!  what's  th'  use  of  killin'  just  to  kill?"  he 
murmured.  His  hold  on  the  gun  relaxed.  A  bolt 
of  lightning  slivered  the  rock  above  the  wolf;  there 
was  an  acrid  odor  of  burning  hair.  The  next  flash 
showed  the  wolf  stretched  dead  twenty  feet  below 
the  cliff.  "Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
whispered  as  he  bowed  his  head  before  the  gale, 


A  DUEL  OF  ENDURANCE  63 

"that  was  funny!  Guess  God  himself  figured  it 
was  time  for  that  poor  cuss  to  die !" 

In  the  last  quarter  of  the  night,  at  the  North 
Springs,  when  the  storm  had  spent  itself  and  the 
white  moon  looked  down  on  a  drenched  and  flood- 
washed  earth,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  dropped  his  rope 
over  the  head  of  the  Gold  Dust  maverick — barely 
twenty  feet  ahead  of  the  horse  he  rode — conquered 
by  the  superior  nerve,  muscle  and  endurance  of  Cap- 
tain Jack,  still  the  greatest  outlaw  the  Kiowa  range 
had  ever  known ! 

The  touch  of  the  rope  fired  the  filly  to  a  supreme 
effort ;  she  lunged  forward ;  Captain  Jack  set  himself 
for  the  shock — he  threw  her  cold,  full  length,  in  the 
soft  mud ;  instantly  the  little  stallion  sprang  forward 
to  give  the  mare  slack,  she  came  to  her  feet,  squeal- 
ing piteously,  and  plunged  desperately  ahead — again 
Captain  Jack  braced  himself  for  the  jar  and  put  her 
down.  "It's  hell,  Little  Girl,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  said 
with  a  catch  in  his  throat,  "but  you've  got  to  learn !" 
The  third  time  the  maverick  tested  the  rope  and  the 
third  time  Captain  Jack  threw  her  in  a  helpless  heap. 
That  time  when  she  got  to  her  feet  she  stood  trem- 
bling in  every  muscle  until  Captain  Jack  came  up  to 
her  side  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid  reached  out  and  laid 
his  hand  on  the  beautiful  mane.  She  had  learned. 
Never  again  would  the  wonderful  creature  tighten 
a  rope  on  her  neck. 

Trailing  the  filly,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  forced  her 
back  toward  the  Cimarron,  into  its  raging  flood, 


64  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

multiplied  a  hundredfold  by  the  torrential  rain  of 
the  night;  side  by  side  she  and  Captain  Jack  swam 
the  stream,  and  in  the  gray  dawn,  while  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT  still  slept,  he  turned  the  mare  and  Captain 
Jack  into  the  circular  corral.  He  removed  the  saddle 
from  Captain  Jack,  took  the  rope  from  the  filly's 
neck,  threw  the  horses  some  hay  and  on  the  dry 
ground  under  the  shed  by  the  corral,  lay  down  and 
went  to  sleep. 

For  fourteen  hours,  without  rest,  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  had  ridden. 

The  sun  was  up  when  Sing  Pete  electrified  the 
Quarter  Circle  KT  into  life  and  action  by  the  jangle 
of  the  iron  triangle  sending  out  the  breakfast  call. 

Old  Heck  stepped  to  the  door  of  the  bunk-house 
and  looked  out  across  the  valley.  The  Cimarron 
roared  sullenly  beyond  the  meadow.  The  lower  field 
was  a  lake  of  muddy  water,  backed  up  from  the 
gorge  below.  He  glanced  toward  the  circular  corral. 

"What  th' —  Who  left  horses  up  last  night?"  he 
asked  of  the  cowboys  dressing  sleepily  inside  the 
bunk-house. 

"Nobody,"  Parker  answered  for  the  group. 

Skinny  Rawlins  came  to  the  door.  "It's  Captain 
Jack,"  he  said,  "and — and  darned  if  th'  Ramblin' 
Kid  ain't  got  the  filly !" 

"Aw,  he  couldn't  have  caught  her  last  night," 
Bert  Lilly  said. 

"Well,  she's  there,"  Skinny  retorted,  "somebody's 
corraled  her — that's  certain !" 


A  DUEL  OF  ENDURANCE  65 

Hurriedly  dressing,  the  cowboys  crowded  out  of 
the  bunk-house  and  down  to  the  circular  corral.  The 
Gold  Dust  maverick  leaped  to  the  center  of  the  en- 
closure as  the  group  drew  near  and  stood  with  head 
up,  eyes  flashing  and  nostrils  quivering,  a  perfect 
picture  of  defiance  and  fear.  The  swim  across  the 
river  had  washed  the  mud  from  her  mane  and  sides 
and  she  was  as  dean  as  if  she  had  been  brushed. 

"Lord,  she's  a  beauty !"  Chuck  Slithers  exclaimed. 

"Sure  is — be  hell  to  ride,  though!"  Bert  com- 
mented. "Wonder  where  the  Ramblin'  Kid  is — " 

"S-h-hh !  Yonder  he  is,"  Charley  Saunders  said, 
observing  the  figure  under  the  shed,  "= — asleep. 
•Come  on  away  and  let  him  rest!" 

"Breakfast's  ready  anyhow,"  Old  Heck  added. 

"And  Skinny  ain't  shaved  or  powdered  his  face 
yet — "  Chuck  laughed;  "these  lovers  ought  to  fix 
themselves  up  better !" 

"Shut  up,  you  blamed  idiot,  ain't  you  got  no  re- 
spect?" Parker  said  as  they  turned  toward  the 
house. 

"Listen  at  Parker,  he's  one  of  them,  too,"  Chuck 
continued ;  "this  is  his  day  to  be  a  sweetheart  to  the 
widow  i" 

"I'd  rather  have  Skinny's  job,"  Bert  said  with  a 
snicker,  "I'd  be  afraid  of  Ophelia — " 

"Why?" 

"She  acts  too  gentle  to  start  with — " 

"Give  her  time,"  Charley  suggested,  "she'll  bu'st 
loose  when  she  gets  better  acquainted !" 


66  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Her  and  Old  Heck  got  pretty  well  introduced 
last  night,  holding  hands  the  way  they  did,  and — " 

"Dry  up,"  Old  Heck  interposed  with  a  foolish 
grin,  "and  come  on  to  breakfast !" 

Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia  were  charmingly  fresh 
and  interesting  in  dainty  blue  and  lavender  morning 
gowns.  A  bowl  of  roses,  plucked  by  Ophelia  from 
the  crimson  rambler  by  the  south  window,  rested  in 
the  center  of  the  table.  The  cowboys  saw  the  flow- 
ers and  exchanged  glances.  Old  Heck  and  Skinny 
blushed. 

Carolyn  June  noticed  the  vacant  place  at  her 
right. 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  ain't  up  yet,"  Skinny  volun- 
teered. 

"Then  the  storm  did  drive  him  to  shelter,  after 
all?"  Carolyn  June  asked  with  the  barest  trace  of 
contempt  in  her  voice. 

"I  wouldn't  hardly  say  that,"  Bert  Lilly  re- 
marked, holding  his  cup  for  Sing  Pete  to  fill  with 
coffee;  " — he  brought  in  the  Gold  Dust  maverick." 

"Yes,"  Chuck  said  with  mock  gravity,  "it  was 
quite  an  undertaking — he  sprinkled  salt  on  her 
tail—" 

"How  clever!"  Ophelia  exclaimed,  looking  inter- 
ested, "and  is  that  the  way  they  catch — mavericks  ?" 
stumbling  over  the  unusual  word. 

"Chuck's  , joking,"  Parker  said:  "he  always  was 
foolish — «" 


67 


"Uncle  Josiah,"  Carolyn  June  asked  suddenly, 
"can  you  take  Ophelia  to  Eagle  Butte  to-day?" 

"I — Parker  can,"  Old  Heck  answered,  "if  he  can 
drive  the  car.  Still  there  are  probably  some  pretty 
bad  washouts — " 

Ophelia  looked  quickly  at  Old  Heck,  interested  by 
the  note  she  detected  in  his  voice. 

"I — I — got  some  work  to  do,"  he  continued,  "if 
you  could  wait  till  to-morrow" — addressing  the 
widow — "I  could  more  than  likely  go  myself— 

"I  guess  I  can  handle  the  car  all  right,"  Parker 
said,  looking  significantly  at  Old  Heck;  "the  roads 
will  be  dried  up  in  a  little  while." 

"It's  Parker's  day  anyhow  and  he  don't  want  to 
miss — "  Chuck  started  to  say. 

"After  breakfast,"  Old  Heck  interrupted,  scowl- 
ing at  the  cowboy,  "Chuck  and  Pedro  had  better 
both  ride-line  on  the  upper  pasture.  The  cattle  prob- 
ably went  against  the  fence  in  the  storm  last  night 
and  knocked  off  a  lot  of  wire.  Of  course,  Skinny 
will  have  to  stay  here,"  he  added,  "and  the  rest  of 
us,  except  Parker,  ought  to  look  after  the  fences  in 
the  east  bottoms — from  the  looks  of  the  river  this 
morning  a  lot  of  posts  and  wire  must  be  washed 
out." 

"Whoever  gets  up  the  saddle  horses  had  better 
catch  them  in  the  pasture  corral,"  Parker  declared, 
"it  won't  do  to  turn  them  in  with  that  wild  filly  and 
Captain  Jack." 


68  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"I  think  I  shall  go  see  that  wonderful  filly,"  Caro- 
lyn June  said  as  they  left  the  table,  "she  may  be  the 
particular  broncho  I  will  want  to  ride — " 

"Not  much,"  Old  Heck  objected,  "these  outlaws 
ain't  exactly  the  kind  of  horses  for  women  to  fool 
with.  You  can  use  Old  Blue.  He's  gentle." 

"Did  I  tell  you  I  wanted  a  'gentle  horse'  ?"  Caro- 
lyn June  asked  with  a  bit  of  impatience. 

"No,  but  I  figured  that  was  the  kind  you'd  need 
on  account  of  being  raised  back  east — " 

"Well,  I  am  going  to  see  the  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick," Carolyn  June  said  with  emphasis,  "and  if 
she  suits  me  I'll — I'll  ride  her!" 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  Skinny  offered  as  Carolyn 
June  stepped  from  the  kitchen  door  and  started  to- 
ward the  circular  corral. 

"Never  mind !"  she  spoke  shortly,  " — you  can  go. 
catch  'Old  Blue'  and" — with  scorn  in  her  voice — "if 
he's  able  to  walk,  maybe  it  will  be  safe  for  me  to  ride 
him  to  the  end  of  the  lane  and  back — Ugh!  'Old 
Blue!'  The  very  name  sounds  as  if  he  was  dead!" 

"Old  Blue's  a  good  horse,"  Skinny  protested, 
" — we  work  him  on  the  hay  derrick — " 

But  Carolyn  June  was  gone,  walking  rapidly 
across  the  open  ground  in  the  direction  of  the  corral 
in  which  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had  turned  Captain  Jack 
and  the  Gold  Dust  filly. 

"Jumpin'  cats!"  Bert  exclaimed  as  the  cowboys 
started  toward  the  stable,  "didn't  the  young  one 
show  her  teeth  sudden?" 


A  DUEL  OF  ENDURANCE  69 

"Skinny' s  going  to  have  his  hands  full  if  he  don't 
look  out,"  Charley  Saunders  remarked  sagely.  "Still 
that  kind  ain't  as  dangerous  as  the  ones  that  act 
plumb  gentle  like  the  widow  has  acted  so  far." 

"Any  female  is  treacherous,"  Chuck  observed 
grimly.  "They're  just  like  cinch-binders — you  can't 
tell  when  they're  going  to  rare  up  and  fall  over 
backwards !" 

"I'll  bet  Ophelia  turns  out  to  be  a  W.  C.  T.  U.  or 
something,"  Bert  predicted  solemnly. 

"If  she  does  it's  all  off  with  the  Quarter  Circle 
KT,  because  Parker  and  Old  Heck  are  both  in  love 
already,"  Charley  said  as  they  rounded  the  corner 
of  the  barn. 

Carolyn  June  gave  a  gasp  of  admiration  as  she 
stepped  up  to  the  circular  corral  and  saw  the  Gold 
Dust  maverick  closely. 

"Oh,  you  beauty!  You  adorable  beauty!"  she 
breathed. 

Captain  Jack  and  the  filly  were  near  the  fence 
next  to  the  shed.  Carolyn  June  passed  in  between 
the  low  building  and  the  corral  to  be  closer  to  the 
horses.  The  sky  was  cloudless  and  a  wonderful 
liquid  blue;  the  sun  glistened  on  the  rich,  golden, 
brown  sides  of  the  mare  and  made  her  coat  shine 
like  delicate  satin.  When  Captain  Jack  and  the  filly 
saw  Carolyn  June  they  stood  for  a  moment  as  rigid 
as  though  cast  in  bronze,  heads  held  high,  eyes  fixed 
curiously  yet  without  fear  on  the  slender  girlish 
figure 


70  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Captain  Jack  took  a  step  forward  in  a  half- 
challenging  way.  The  maverick  stood  perfectly  still. 

"You  beauty,"  the  girl  repeated,  "you  wonderful 
golden  beauty !  You  are  going  to  be  my  horse — I'm 
going  to  ride  you — just  you — " 

"You'll  get  you're  neck  broke  if  you  do !"  a  voice, 
deliberate  and  of  peculiar  softness,  said  behind  her. 

Carolyn  June  turned,  startled,  toward  the  shed 
from  where  the  voice  had  come.  She  knew,  even  be- 
fore she  looked,  that  the  speaker  was  the  Ramblin' 
Kid.  Evidently  he  had  just  awakened.  He  had  not 
risen  and  still  lay  stretched  on  the  ground,  his  head 
resting  on  the  saddle  he  had  used  for  a  pillow.  Car- 
olyn June  could  not  help  wondering  how  long  he 
had  been  lying  there  studying  her  back.  The  thought 
confused  her.  In  spite  of  her  efforts  at  self-control 
a  slow  flush  crept  over  her  cheeks.  The  Ramblin' 
Kid  saw  it  and  the  faintest  hint  of  a  smile  showed 
on  his  lips — or  was  the  suggestion  of  amusement  in 
the  twinkling  glance  of  his  eyes?  Carolyn  June 
could  not  tell.  The  subtlety  and  queerly  humble 
impudence  of  it  filled  her  with  anger. 

While  she  looked  into  his  eyes  Carolyn  June  ap- 
praised the  physical  appearance  of  the  Ramblin' 
Kid.  Certainly  he  was  not  handsome,  sprawling 
there  in  his  rough  clothing.  She  knew  his  age  was 
somewhere  near  her  own,  perhaps  he  was  a  year, 
surely  no  more  than  that,  older  than  hersel  f .  Yet  there 
was  an  expression  about  the  face  that  suggested 
*mich  experience,  a  sort  of  settled  maturity  and  seri- 


A  DUEL  OF  ENDURANCE  71 

ousness.  His  mouth,  Carolyn  June  thought,  showed 
a  trace  of  cruelty — or  was  it  only  firmness?  The 
teeth  were  good.  If  he  stood  up  her  own  eyes  would 
have  to  angle  upward  a  trifle  to  look  into  his  and  if 
hers  were  brown  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  were  positively 
black — yes,  she  would  say,  a  brutal,  unfathomable 
black,  penetrating  and  hard.  His  cheeks  were 
smooth  and  almost  sallow  they  were  so  dark,  and 
she  could  tell  there  was  not  an  ounce  of  flesh  save 
tough  sinewy  muscle  on  his  body.  He  was  fully 
dressed  except  for  the  white  weather-beaten  Stetson 
lying  beside  the  saddle  and  the  chaps  and  spurs 
kicked  off  and  tossed  with  the  bridle  and  rope  near 
by  on  the  ground.  A  dark  woolen  shirt  open  at  the 
throat,  blue  overalls  faded  and  somewhat  dingy, 
black  calfskin  boots  on  a  pair  of  feet  that  could  not 
have  been  larger  than  sixes,  comprised  his  attire. 

So  this  was  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  Carolyn  June 
thought.  Someway  she  had  pictured  him  a  blue- 
eyed,  yellow-haired  sort  of  composite  Skinny  Raw- 
lins,  Chuck,  Bert  Lilly,  Charley  Saunders  all  in  one 
and  with  the  face  of  a  boy  in  the  teens ! 

He  was  different.  She  wondered,  and  almost 
laughed  at  the  absurd  thought,  if  he  was  bow-legged. 
A  glance  at  the  straight  limbs  stretched  in  repose  on 
the  ground  dispelled  the  doubt. 

The  suddenness  with  which  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had 
spoken  and  the  tone  he  used,  Carolyn  June  thought, 
was  utterly  unfair.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  been 
ambushed.  How  could  she  know  he  was  sleeping 


72  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

under  the  shed?  Why  wasn't  he  in  the  bunk-house 
where  he  belonged  ?  Her  own  embarrassment  made 
her  cross.  She  wanted  to  say  "damn!"  and  stamp 
her  foot  or  throw  something  at  him,  lying  there  so 
completely  self-possessed!  Instead,  she  looked 
steadily  into  the  eyes  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid.  Some- 
way as  she  looked  they  seemed  not  so  unkind,  more 
sorrowful  they  were,  on  closer  scrutiny,  than  cruel. 
She  started  to  speak,  her  cheeks  began  to  burn — 

Without  a  word  she  turned  and  walked  rapidly 
toward  the  house. 

As  she  moved  away  Carolyn  June  felt  something 
snap  at  her  knee.  She  did  not  stop.  Reaching  down 
she  gathered  the  soft  folds  of  the  loose  gown  about 
her  and  hurried  away  from  the  corral. 

"God!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  whispered  as  he 
straightened  up,  "she's  built  like  th'  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick— an'  just  as  game!  They  was  made  for  each 
other." 

He  went  to  the  corral  and  leaned  against  the 
fence,  studying  the  filly  thoughtfully,  while  Captain 
Jack  with  a  friendly  whinny  came  and  nosed  at  the 
fingers  thrust  through  the  bars.  After  a  time  the 
mare  cautiously  moved  up  beside  the  roan  stallion 
and  stretched  her  own  velvety  muzzle  toward  the 
hand  the  Ramblin'  Kid  held  out. 

"You  want  to  be  loved,  too,  you  little  devil !"  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  laughed  gently,  " — you  thought  I  was 
mean  last  night,  didn't  you?" 

For  a  while  he  fooled  with  the  horses,  then  started 


A  DUEL  OF  ENDURANCE  73 

toward  the  kitchen.  A  few  steps  from  where  Caro- 
lyn June  had  been  standing  he  glanced  down  at  a 
broad  pink  satin  elastic  band  lying  on  the  ground. 
It  had  been  fastened  with  a  silver  butterfly  clasp. 
The  clasp  was  broken.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  stooped 
and  picked  it  up. 

"I'll  be — !"  he  chuckled  as  he  fingered,  almost 
reverently,  the  dainty  thing,  "it's  a — a — darned 
pretty  little  jigger!" 

Smiling  whimsically  the  Ramblin'  Kid  slipped  his 
find  in  his  pocket  and  sought  Sing  Pete  to  tease  him 
for  a  bite  of  breakfast. 


CHAPTER  VI 
YOU'RE  A  BRUTE 

CAROLYN  JUNE  went  directly  to  her  room 
when  she  reached  the  house.  She  wished  to 
investigate  the  feeling  of  looseness  at  her  knee.  The 
satin  band  that  belonged  there  was  gone.  She  felt 
her  cheeks  grow  hot.  Doubtless  she  had  lost  it  at 
the  corral — the  Ramblin'  Kid  would  pick  it  up !  The 
thought  tormented  her.  Once  more  she  wanted  to 
swear  vigorously  and  with  extreme  earnestness.  In- 
stead she — laughed !  It  was  all  so  absurd.  The 
strange  interest  this  rough  cowboy  inspired  in  her; 
the  confusion  she  felt  when  he  had  spoken  to  her 
— no  man  among  all  the  clever,  carefully  groomed, 
ultra-sophisticated  suitors  she  had  left  in  Hartville 
ever  stirred  her  emotions  as  had  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
with  a  few  drawling  words  and  one  long  look  from 
his  black,  inscrutable  eyes.  That  look!  She  had 
the  feeling,  someway,  that  her  whole  soul  was 
naked  before  it.  She  was  almost  afraid  of  him.  It 
was  silly!  She  detested  him — or — anyway,  he 
needed  punishment!  No,  he  wasn't  worth  it!  He 
was  only  an  ignorant  rider  of  the  range — why 
trouble  at  all  about  him? 

74 


YOU'RE  A  BRUTE  75 

Quickly  changing  her  dress  for  a  riding  suit  of 
khaki — the  skirt  sensibly  divided — and  the  morn- 
ing slippers  for  stout,  tan,  laced  boots,  she  stepped 
into  the  front  room.  Ophelia  was  in  her  own  room 
dressing  to  go  to  town.  Carolyn  June  heard  voices 
in  the  kitchen.  Sing  Pete's  shrill  chatter  mingled 
with  an  occasional  slow  word  from  the  Ramblin' 
Kid.  Thought  of  the  garter  she  had  lost  flashed  into 
her  mind.  Perhaps  the  cowboy  had  not  found  it. 
She  would  run  out  to  the  corral  and  see.  Passing 
quickly  out  the  front  way  Carolyn  June  hastened 
again  toward  the  circular  corral.  Old  Heck  and 
Parker  were  at  the  garage  getting  the  car  ready  for 
the  drive  to  Eagle  Butte;  Pedro  and  Chuck  were 
riding  across  the  valley  toward  the  upper  pasture. 
The  other  cowboys  saddled  their  horses  near  the 
barn. 

As  she  walked,  Carolyn  June  scanned  the  ground. 
At  the  corral  she  looked  carefully  where  she  had 
been  standing.  Her  search  was  fruitless.  She  smiled 
queerly.  Again  she  glanced  at  the  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick. 

"You  darling,"  she  whispered,  "I  am  going  to 
have  you — I  am — I  absolutely  am!" 

Turning,  her  eyes  rested  on  the  saddle,  chaps  and 
riding  gear  lying  in  the  shed  where  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  had  slept.  Carolyn  June  stepped  close  to  the 
outfit. 

"I  have  a  notion  to — to  spit  on  you!"  she  said 
vehemently,  "or  kick — "  but  she  didn't  finish  the 


76  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

sentence.  One  tan  shoe  had  been  drawn  back  as 
if  to  be  swung  viciously  at  the  inoffensive  pile  of 
riding  gear;  it  paused,  suspended,  then  gently,  al- 
most caressingly,  pushed  the  leather  chaps  which 
suddenly  seemed  to  Carolyn  June  to  look  limp  and 
worn  and  pathetically  tired. 

As  Carolyn  June  returned  to  the  house  Parker 
drove  the  car  around  to  the  front;  Old  Heck  joined 
the  cowboys,  already  mounting  their  bronchos,  and 
with  them  rode  down  the  lane  in  the  direction  of 
the  lower  field.  Skinny  came  out  of  the  barn,  lead- 
ing Pie  Face  and  Old  Blue.  He  left  the  horses 
standing  and  at  the  back-yard  gate  overtook  Carolyn 
June.  As  they  stepped  inside  the  yard  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  appeared  at  the  kitchen  door. 

"There's  the  Ramblin'  Kid  now,"  Skinny  said  as 
they  approached.  "Hello,  Kid,"  he  continued,  "I  see 
you  got  the  filly —  Excuse  me,  I  guess  you  folks 
ain't  acquainted." 

Haltingly  he  introduced  them. 

Without  the  flicker  of  an  eyelid  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
looked  into  the  eyes  of  Carolyn  June.  He  had  seen 
her  coming  from  the  corral  and  guessed  correctly 
the  reason  for  her  second  visit  to  the  enclosure.  In- 
deed at  that  moment  his  hand  was  in  his  pocket 
toying  with  the  delicate  souvenir  for  which  she  had 
gone  to  search.  Yet  his  face  was  utterly  without 
emotion  as  he  lifted  his  hat  and  stood  aside,  acknowl- 
edging with  formal  words  the  introduction.  "It's 
sure  a  surprisin'  day  an'  pleasant — "  he  finished, 


YOU'RE  A  BRUTE  77. 

emphasizing  "surprisin'  "  and  "pleasant"  till  Caro- 
lyn June  could  have  sworn  there  was  a  veiled  taunt 
in  the  words  he  spoke. 

She  was  equally  calm.  Smiling  sweetly  and  with 
not  a  hint  of  a  previous  meeting  she  said:  "I  think 
I  have  heard  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid."  Pausing  a  mo- 
ment: "It's  always  peaceful  after  a  storm!"  she 
added  enigmatically.  And  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  as 
Skinny  and  the  girl  passed  around  to  the  front  of 
the  house,  knew  that  Carolyn  June  had  hurled  a 
lance  I 

"A  natural  born  heart-breaker,"  he  said  to  him- 
self as  he  went  toward  the  bunk-house,  "a  genuine, 
full-grown  vampire,  part  intentional  an'  part  be- 
cause it's  in  her — but  she's  a  pure-bred —  He 
grew  pensive  and  silent,  a  look  of  gentleness  came 
to  his  face,  followed  quickly  by  an  expression  of 
extreme  humility.  "Oh,  hell,"  he  exclaimed  aloud, 
"what's  th'  use!"  Entering  the  building  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid  seated  himself  at  the  table  at  the  end  of  the 
room.  He  pulled  the  pink  satin  elastic  from  his 
pocket  and  gazed  at  it,  rubbing  the  soft  fabric  ten- 
derly with  the  end  of  his  thumb.  His  eyes  lighted 
suddenly  with  anger  and  contempt.  He  threw 
the  band  violently  across  the  room  into  a  corner. 
"I  wasn't  raised  to  associate  with  luxuries  like  that !" 
he  exclaimed  with  mingled  bitterness  and  scorn, 
" — a  damned  ign'rant  cowpuncher  dreamin'  dreams 
about  an  angel!"  he  finished  with  a  harsh  laugh. 
For  a  while  he  sat  silent,  gazing  down  at  the  table. 


78  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 


Then  he  got  up,  went  over  and  lifted  the  garter 
from  where  it  had  fallen  and  replaced  it  in  his 
pocket.  "Oh,  well,"  he  chuckled  less  bitterly  and 
whimsically  added,  " — any  idiot  can  smile  at  th' 
mornin'  star  even  if  th'  darned  thing  is  beyond  his 
reach!  Besides,  she  don't  need  to  ever  know — " 
Leaving  the  bunk-house  he  went  toward  the  cir- 
cular corral. 

Parker  climbed  from  the  car  and  entered  the 
house,  asking  if  Ophelia  was  ready. 

"In  just  a  moment!"  the  widow  called  from  her 
room. 

"What  are  you  and  me  going  to  do?"  Skinny 
asked  Carolyn  June  as  they  stepped  on  to  the  porch, 
"take  a  ride?" 

"On  'Old  Blue'  ?"  Carolyn  June  questioned  scorn- 
fully, then,  with  resignation,  as  they  went  inside 
the  house:  "Oh,  well — I  suppose,  after  a  while.  I 
have  some  letters  to  write  now,"  and  she  entered 
her  room  leaving  Skinny  standing  perplexed  by  her 
varying  moods.  He  looked  foolishly  at  Parker  a 
moment.  Going  to  the  graphophone  he  put  on  a 
record — 

"I'm  -forever  blowing  bubbles,  pretty  bub- 
bles in  the  air!" 

wailed  disconsolately  through  the  house. 

"Good  heavens,"  Carolyn  June  called,  "do  you 
blow  bubbles  this  early  in  the  morning?" 


YOU'RE  A  BRUTE  79 

"Don't  you  like  it?"  Skinny  asked  soberly.  "I 
thought  that  was  a  pretty  good  tune." 

"I'm  crazy  about  it!"  Carolyn  June  answered 
sarcastically.  "There  and  then,  but  not  here  and 
now — " 

"Where  and  when?"  Skinny  queried  innocently. 

"In  the  valley  of  the  moon  at  the  end  of  a  per- 
fect day!"  she  laughed  back.  " — Forgive  me,  I 
couldn't  help  it !" 

"What  does  she  mean?"  Skinny  asked  Parker  in 
a  whisper.  "Is  she  making  fun  of  me?" 

"No,  you  blamed  fool,"  Parker  replied,  "she  feels 
good  and  is  just  joking — " 

Skinny  brightened  up  immediately. 

"That's  a  good  one,"  he  called  to  Carolyn  June 
with  a  snicker;  "I  never  thought  of  it  before!" 

A  ripple  of  laughter  came  from  Carolyn  June's 
room. 

"Really,  I  don't  mind,"  she  said;  "play  Bubbles 
as  much  as  you  like — I  think  it's  rather  soothing, 
but  truly  I  must  write  my  letters  now  so  Ophelia 
can  take  them  to  town." 

Half  an  hour  later  Ophelia  appeared  dressed  for 
the  drive  to  Eagle  Butte.  Carolyn  June  and  Skinny 
went  out  on  the  front  porch  and  watched  the  widow 
and  Parker  climb  into  the  Clagstone  "Six."  As 
Parker  started  the  engine  Skinny  suddenly  called  to 
him.  Parker  sat  with  his  foot  on  the  clutch  while 
Skinny  hurried  out  to  the  car. 


80  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked  impatiently. 
"We've  got  to  be  going!" 

"Lean  over  here,"  Skinny  said,  his  face  flushing 
scarlet,  "I  want  to  tell  you  something." 

"Well?" 

"Stop  at  the  Golden  Rule  and  get  me  a  white  shirt 
size  number  fifteen  and — a  purple  necktie  if  they've 
got  any!"  Skinny  whispered. 

Ophelia  heard  and  choked  back  a  laugh. 

"Thunderation,  he's  plumb  locoed!"  Parker  ex- 
claimed, as  he  jammed  the  clutch  into  gear  and  the 
car  sprang  forward. 

"Don't  forget  it,  Parker,"  Skinny  called  earnestly, 
"I  actually  need  it!" 

Carolyn  June  and  Skinny  stood  on  the  porch  and 
watched  the  car  climb  the  grade  and  out  on  to  the 
bench.  The  storm  of  the  night  before  had  washed 
the  earth  clean  and  cooled  the  air.  A  faint  after- 
breeze  fanned  the  tree-tops.  The  Costejo  peaks 
stood  out,  with  stereoscopical  clearness,  against  a 
cloudless  sky.  The  day  was  a  challenge  to  one  who 
loved  the  open. 

"You  may  saddle  'Old  Blue/  "  Carolyn  June  said 
to  Skinny.  " — I'll  see  if  I  can  'stick  on  him'  long 
enough  to  ride  as  far  as  the  river !" 

"He's  already  saddled,"  Skinny  replied,  "him  and 
Old  Pie  Face  both." 

"Man,  dear,"  she  cried  in  mock  misunderstand- 
ing, "you  surely  are  not  expecting  me  to  ride  the 
two  of  them  at  once !" 


YOU'RE  A  BRUTE  81 

"No,"  he  answered  meekly,  "Old  Pie  Face  is  my 
horse,  I'm  going  to  ride  him  and  go  with  you." 

"Indeed!"  she  exclaimed,  then  laughing  mischiev- 
ously. "Oh,  certainly — that's  a  good  one — I  hadn't 
thought  of  it  before!" 

"Don't  you  want  me  to  go?"  Skinny  asked  doubt- 
fully. 

"Surely.  I  should  be  utterly  unhappy  if  you 
didn't — I'll  get  my  hat." 

"Blamed  if  I  can  figure  her  out,"  Skinny  said  to 
himself  as  Carolyn  June  ran  lightly  into  the  house. 
"She  keeps  a  feller  freezing  to  death  and  burning 
up  all  at  once — sort  of  in  heaven  and  hell  both 
mixed  together." 

A  white,  medium-brimmed  felt  hat  was  set  jaunt- 
ily on  the  fluffy  brown  hair  when  she  reappeared. 
Skinny 's  heart  leaped  hungrily.  Carolyn  June  was 
a  picture  of  perfect  physical  fitness.  The  cowboy 
silently  wondered  how  long  he  could  keep  from 
making  "a  complete,  triple-expansion,  darned  fool 
of  himself!" 

"I'm  glad  you  want  me  to  go,"  he  said,  renewing 
the  conversation  as  they  started  around  the  house, 
"because  I  wanted  to  and,  well,  anyhow  it's  my 
job—" 

"What  do  you  mean  'your  job'?"  Carolyn  June 
asked  quickly. 

Skinny  was  stricken  silent.  He  realized  he  was 
on  dangerous  ground.  He  wasn't  sure  it  would  be 
wise  to  tell  her  what  he  meant.  Someway  he  felt 


82  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Carolyn  June  would  resent  it  if  she  knew  he  was 
drawing  wages  for  acting  the  lover  to  her.  It 
seemed  wholly  impossible  for  him,  just  at  that  mo- 
ment, to  explain  that,  although  Old  Heck  was  pay- 
ing him  ten  dollars  a  month  extra  salary  to  court, 
temporarily,  his  attractive  niece,  he,  Skinny  Raw- 
lins,  would  personally  be  overjoyed  to  reverse  the 
order  and  give  his  entire  income,  adding  a  bonus  as 
well,  for  the  privilege  of  continuing  indefinitely  and 
of  his  own  choice  the  more  than  pleasant  employ- 
ment. Yet  this  was  the  literal  truth,  so  quickly  had 
his  susceptible  heart  yielded  to  the  charms  of  the 
girl.  But  he  dared  not  try  to  tell  her.  He  knew  the 
words  would  not  come  and  if  they  did  he  would 
probably  choke  on  them  and  she,  not  believing  the 
truth,  would  detest  him.  Skinny  had  heard  of  men 
who  courted  girls  of  wealth  to  win  their  money 
and  with  sincere  contempt  he  despised  these  de- 
generates of  his  sex.  Now,  suddenly,  he  felt  that  he 
himself  was  in  their  class.  The  thought  made  him 
sick,  actually  caused  his  stomach  to  quiver  with  a 
sort  of  nausea. 

"Skinny  Rawlins,"  Carolyn  June  said  sternly, 
stopping  and  looking  straight  at  the  confused  and 
mentally  tortured  cowboy,  "tell  me — and  don't  lie — 
what  you  meant  when  you  said  to  go  with  me  was 
'your  job!'" 

Skinny  raised  his  eyes;  in  them  was  piteous  ap- 
peal. 

"I  meant — I — "  he  hesitated. 


YOU'RE  A  BRUTE  83 

"Tell  me  the  truth,"  she  ordered  relentlessly,  "or 
I'll__ril__do  something  awful !" 

"I  meant  it  was  my  job — "  suddenly  inspired,  he 
blurted  out,  "to  ride  Old  Pie  Face.  He's — he's  dan- 
gerous and  has  to  be  rode  every  so  often  to  keep 
him  from  getting  worse  and  to-day's  the  day  to  ride 
him!" 

"Skinny,"  Carolyn  June  spoke  gently,  "I  feel  sorry 
for  you.  I  want  to  like  you  and  I'm  disappointed. 
It  breaks  my  heart  to  say  it  but  you  are  a  liar — 
you're  just  a  common  double  dashed  liar — like 
Uncle  Josiah  was  when  he  sent  that  telegram  say- 
ing there  was  smallpox  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT — " 

"Am  I  ?"  Skinny  asked  humbly. 

"You  are,"  she  retorted  impatiently,  "and  you 
know  it — " 

"Do  I?"  as  if  dazed. 

"You  do,  and  did  all  the  time— •-" 

"Did  I  ?"  he  felt  like  a  parrot. 

"You  did !"  Carolyn  June  snapped.  "Good  heav- 
ens," she  continued,  "why  do  men  think  they  have 
to  lie  to  women?  Common  sense  and  experience 
ought  to  teach  them  they  can  never  fool  them  long 
— I  hoped  out  here  in  the  big  West  I  would  find  one 
man  who  wouldn't  lie — " 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  won't,"  Skinny  said  as  if  sud- 
denly struck  by  a  bright  thought,  " — he  wouldn't 
lie  to  you !" 

Carolyn  June  laughed  scornfully. 

"Oh,  yes  he  would,"  she  declared,  "all  of  them  do 


84  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

— every  last  one  of  the  poor  frail" — contemptu- 
ously—"turtles  !" 

"But  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  wouldn't,"  Skinny  per- 
sisted ;  "he  won't  lie  to  anybody." 

"Not  even  to  a  woman?"  she  questioned  incredu- 
lously. 

"No,"  he  answered  positively,  "I'm  sure  he 
wouldn't." 

"And  why  wouldn't  he?"  she  asked. 

"Well,"  Skinny  replied,  "for  one  thing  he  don't 
give  a  darn.  Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  don't  care  what  any- 
body, man,  woman  or  anything  else  thinks  about  him 
(or  whether  they  like  what  he  says  or  not  so  there 
ain't  any  use  of  him  lying.  Maybe  he  wouldn't  tell 
what  was  in  his  mind  unless  you  asked  him,  but  if 
you  did  ask  him  he'd  say  what  it  was  whether  he 
thought  it  satisfied  you  or  not.  He's  funny  that 
way.  He  just  naturally  don't  seem  to  be  built  for 
telling  lies  and  he  wouldn't  do  it — " 

"Oh,  Skinny,  poor  simple  Skinny!"  Carolyn 
June  laughed.  "You  don't  know  men — men  when 
they're  dealing  with  women!  Through  all  the  un- 
named years  of  my  life  I've  never  found  one  man 
who  was  absolutely  truthful  when  talking  with  a 
'female/  They  think  they  have  to  lie  to  women. 
They  do  it  either  to  keep  from  hurting  them — or 
else  they  do  it  intentionally  for  the  purpose  of  hurt- 
ing them,  one  or  the  other !  And  they  are  so  stupid ! 
No  man  can  hide  anything  long  from  a  woman — " 


YOU'RE  A  BRUTE  85 

Reaching  over  she  jerked  a  spray  of  tiny  roses  from 
the  rambler  at  the  window  near  which  they  were 
standing;  tapping  the  blossoms  against  her  lips,  be- 
ginning to  smile  whimsically,  she  continued :  "Why, 
I  can  almost  read  your  own  thoughts  right  now! 
If  I  wanted  to  I  could  tell  you  more  about  what  is 
in  your  mind  than  you  yourself  could  tell — " 

"Could  you?"  Skinny  said,  a  guilty  look  coming 
in  his  eyes. 

"For  one  thing,"  Carolyn  June  went  on,  ignoring 
the  inane  question,  "you  are  in  love — " 

"I  ain't!"  the  over-hasty  denial  slipped  from  his 
lips  unintentionally. 

"Lie!"  she  laughed,  "you  can't  help  telling  'em, 
can  you?  And  you  are  thinking — "  She  paused 
while  her  eyes  rested  demurely  on  the  roses  in  her 
hand. 

"What  am  I  thinking?"  Skinny  asked  breath- 
lessly. 

Before  she  could  reply  an  agonized  spitting,  yowl- 
ing and  hissing,  accompanied  by  the  rattle  of  tin, 
came  from  behind  the  kitchen.  "What's  that?" 
Carolyn  June  cried  half  frightened  at  the  instant  a 
yellow  house  cat,  his  head  fastened  in  an  old  to- 
mato can,  came  bouncing  backward,  clawing  and 
scratching,  from  around  the  corner. 

"Gee  whiz !"  Skinny  exclaimed,  "it's  that  darned 
cat  again — Sing  Pete  goes  and  dabs  butter  in  the 
bottoms  of  the  cans  and  the  fool  cat  sticks  his  head 


86  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

in  trying  to  lick  it  out  and  gets  fastened.  It  looks 
like  the  blamed  idiot  would  learn  sometime.  It's 
what  I  call  a  rotten  joke  anyhow  I" 

Sing  Pete  appeared  at  the  kitchen  door  cackling 
with  fiendish  joy  at  the  success  of  his  ruse. 

Carolyn  June  stared,  apparently  stricken  dumb  by 
the  antics  of  the  struggling  animal. 

"Sun-fish!  Go  to  it — you  poor  deluded  son-of- 
sorrow!"  The  Ramblin'  Kid,  who,  unnoticed  by 
Carolyn  June  and  Skinny,  at  that  moment  had  come 
from  the  corral  and  stood  leaning  against  the  fence, 
chuckled  half  pityingly,  yet  making  no  move  toward 
the  creature. 

"Catch  him  and  take  it  off,"  Carolyn  June  cried, 
"it's  hurting  him !" 

Skinny  started  toward  the  rapidly  gyrating  jum- 
ble of  claws,  can  and  cat. 

"I  will  if  the  darn'  thing*!!  hold  still  a  minute !" 
he  said. 

Carolyn  June  looked  at  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  still 
leaning  against  the  fence  watching  the  cat's  contor- 
tions. 

"Why  don't  you  help  him?"  she  asked  impa- 
tiently. "Skinny  can't  do  it  alone — can't  you  see  it's 
choking?" 

"No,  he's  not  choking,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  replied 
without  moving  from  where  he  stood,  " — he's  suf- 
ferin'  some,  but  he  ain't  chokin'.  He's  got  quite  a 
lot  of  wind  yet  an'  is  gettin'  some  valuable  experi- 
ence. That  cat's  what  I  call  a  genuine  acrobat !"  he 


YOU'RE  A  BRUTE  87 

mused  as  the  terrified  creature  leaped  frantically 
in  the  air  and  somersaulted  backward,  striking  and 
clawing  desperately  to  free  itself  of  the  can  tightly 
wedged  on  its  head. 

Carolyn  June  was  accustomed  to  obedience  from 
men  creatures.  The  Ramblin'  Kid's  indifference  to 
her  request,  together  with  his  apparent  cruelty  in 
refusing  to  aid  in  relieving  the  cat  from  its  torturing 
dilemma,  angered  and  piqued  the  girl. 

"Help  Skinny  take  it  off,  I  tell  you!"  she  re- 
peated, "haven't  you  a  spark  of  sympathy — " 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  resented  her  tone  and  detected 
as  well  the  note  of  wounded  pride.  Instinctively  he 
felt  that  at  that  instant  the  cat,  with  Carolyn  June, 
had  become  a  secondary  consideration. 

"Well,  some,  I  reckon,"  he  answered,  speaking 
deliberately,  "generally  a  little,  but  right  now  darned 
little  for  that  old  yaller  cat.  I  figure  he's  a  plumb 
free  moral  agent,"  he  continued  as  if  speaking  to 
himself;  "he  got  his  head  in  that  can  on  his  own 
hook  an'  it's  up  to  him  to  get  it  out  or  let  it  stay  in 
this  time,  just  as  he  pleases — " 

"But  Sing  Pete  put  butter  in  the  can!"  Carolyn 
June  said,  arguing. 

"He's  done  it  before,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  answered 
with  a  glance  at  the  Chinese  cook  still  gleefully  en* 
joying  the  results  of  his  cruel  joke.  "He  won't  HO 
more.  But  that  don't  make  no  difference,"  he 
laughed,  "th5  darn'  cat  hadn't  ought  to  have  yielded 
to  temptation!" 


88  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"You're  a  brute!"  she  exclaimed  passionately, 
" — an  ignorant,  savage,  stupid  brute — "  The  harsh 
words  sprang  from  the  lips  of  Carolyn  June  before 
she  thought.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  flinched  involun- 
tarily as  if  he  had  been  struck  full  in  the  face.  A 
look  came  in  his  eyes  that  almost  made  her  regret 
what  she  had  said. 

"I  reckon  I  am,"  he  replied,  gazing  steadily  at  her 
without  feeling  or  resentment  and  speaking  slowly, 
"yes,  I'm  an  'ign'rant,  savage,  stupid  brute,'  "  de- 
liberately accenting  each  word  as  he  repeated  the 
stinging  phrase,  " — but — what's  the  use?"  he 
finished  with  a  mirthless  laugh.  "Anyhow,"  he 
added,  glancing  again  at  the  cat  and  Skinny's  futile 
efforts  to  catch  it,  "I  ain't  interferin'  this  time,  at 
least,  with  that  damned  cat !" 

Carolyn  June  knew  she  had  hurt  with  her  unin- 
tentionally cruel  words.  For  an  instant  there  was  a 
humane  impulse  to  temper  their  severity. 

"I — I — didn't — "  she  started  to  say,  but  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid  had  turned  and,  ignoring  the  cat,  Skinny 
and  herself,  was  leaning  on  the  fence  with  his  back 
to  her,  looking  off  across  the  valley,  apparently  lost 
in  thought.  She  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

The  cat  bucked  its  way  to  the  fence.  As  it  went 
under  the  wire  the  can  caught  on  a  barb  of  the  lower 
strand.  Jerking  furiously,  the  animal  freed  itself 
from  the  can,  leaving  splotches  of  hair  and  hide  on 
the  ragged  edges  of  tin.  Still  spitting  and  clawing, 
with  its  tail  standing  out  like  an  enormous  yellow 


YOU'RE  A  BRUTE  &) 

plume,  it  'dashed  toward  the  barn,  eager  to  put  dis- 
tance between  itself  and  the  thing  that  had  been 


torturing  it. 


"Gosh  a'mighty,"  Skinny  said,  sweating  with  the 
exertion  and  the  excitement  of  trying  to  catch  the 
cat,  "it'll  be  noon  before  we  get  started  for  that 
ride !" 

"We'll  go  now,"  Carolyn  June  answered,  " — be- 
fore some  other  horrible  thing  occurs." 

"We're  going  over  to  the  river  and  maybe  out  on 
the  sand-hills  a  ways,"  Skinny  casually  remarked 
to  the  Ramblin'  Kid  as  Carolyn  June  and  he  passed 
through  the  gate.  "Oh,  yes,"  he  added,  "Chuck 
said  tell  you  he  took  your  rope— there  was  a  weak 
spot  in  his  and  he  didn't  get  it  fixed  yesterday !" 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  did  not  answer. 

Skinny  had  been  wrong  about  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
not  caring  what  any  one  thought  of  him.  He  was 
supersensitive  of  his  roughness,  his  lack  of  educa- 
tion and  conscious  crudeness,  and  the  words  of 
Carolyn  June  were  still  in  his  mind.  When  Skinny 
and  the  girl  were  going  toward  their  horses  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  turned  and  entered  the  gate.  Sing 
Pete  was  still  at  the  kitchen  door. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  stepped  up  to  him. 

"You  damned  yellow  heathen,"  he  said  in  a  level 
voice,  "if  you  ever  play  that  trick  on  that  cat  again 
th'  Quarter  Circle  KT  will  be  shy  a  cook  an'  your 
ghost'll  be  headin'  pronto  for  China !" 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  he  went  back  to  the 


90  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

gate  and  watched  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  ride 
down  the  lane.  The  deftness  and  skill  with  which 
the  girl  handled  the  horse  she  rode  forced  a  smile 
of  admiration  to  the  lips  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid.  She 
sat  close  in  the  saddle  and  a  glance  showed  she  was 
a  born  master  of  horses.  "She's  a  wonder,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "a  teetotal  wonder — "  A  shade  of 
melancholy  passed  over  his  face.  "An  ign'rant, 
savage,  stupid  brute !"  he  murmured  bitterly,  "well, 
I  reckon  she  was  right —  Hell !"  he  exclaimed  aloud, 
"I  wonder  if  Skinny'll  remember  about  that  upper 
crossin'  bein'  dang'rous  with  quicksand  after  the 
rain —  Guess  he  did,"  he  finished  as  the  two  riders 
turned  to  the  right  toward  the  lower  and  more  dis- 
tant river  ford  and  disappeared  among  the  willows 
and  cottonwood  trees  that  fringed  the  Cimarron, 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  GREEDY  SANDS 

WHEN  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  working  the  rope- 
conquered  and  leg-weary  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick from  the  North  Springs  back  to  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT,  crossed  the  Cimarron  at  dawn  Captain 
Jack  and  the  filly  swam  a  raging,  drift-burdened 
river.  Less  than  twelve  hours  later  Carolyn  June 
and  Skinny,  at  the  lower  ford,  rode  into  a  stream 
that  again  was  normal.  Old  Blue  and  Pie  Face 
splashed  through  water  barely  reaching  the  stirrup 
leathers.  Only  the  fresh  rubbish  flung  out  on  the 
meadows  by  the  flood's  quick  anger  or  lodged  in 
the  willows,  still  bent  by  the  pressure  of  the  torrent 
that  had  rushed  over  them  and  slimy  with  yellow 
sediment  left  on  their  branches  and  leaves,  told  the 
story  of  the  swift  rise  and  fall  of  the  Cimarron  the 
night  before. 

On  the  bluff  north  of  the  river  Carolyn  June  and 
Skinny  checked  their  horses  while  the  girl  gazed 
down  on  the  panorama  of  green  fields,  narrow  lanes, 
corrals  and  low  buildings  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 
The  sight  thrilled  her.  On  all  the  Kiowa  range  there 
was  no  more  entrancing  view. 

"It's  kind  of  pretty,  ain't  it?"  Skinny  ventured. 

"Beautiful!"  she  breathed. 
91 


92  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"I'd — I'd  like  to  stand  here  and  look  at  it  always 
— if  yOU — if  you'd  enjoy  it!"  he  said  and  was  in- 
stantly appalled  by  his  own  audacity. 

Carolyn  June  flashed  a  quick  look  at  him. 

"We  had  better  go  on,"  she  said,  then  added 
lightly :  "Does  it  always  affect  you  so  when  you  get 
this  view  of  the  valley?" 

"No.  But,  well,  somehow  it's  different  this  morn- 
ing— maybe  it's  because  you  are  here!"  he  blurted 
out  hurriedly. 

"Please,"  she  said,  starting  Old  Blue  toward  the 
west  along  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  "don't  be  senti- 
mental. I'm  afraid—"  she  added,  intending  to  say 
it  would  spoil  their  ride. 

"You  needn't  be,  with  me  along!"  Skinny  inter« 
rupted  hastily,  misinterpreting  her  meaning. 

She  laughed  and  without  explaining  urged  her 
horse  forward. 

Skinny  followed  pensively  on  Old  Pie  Face. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid,  while  going  from  barn  to 
corral,  glanced  across  the  valley  and  saw  Carolyn 
June  and  Skinny  as  they  rode  along  the  ridge.  It 
was  two  miles  from  the  ranch  to  the  bluff  on  which 
they  were  riding,  but  so  clear  was  the  rain-washed 
air  that  the  horses  and  riders  were  easily  recog- 
nized. He  watched  them  until  they  reached  the 
corner  of  the  upland  pasture.  There  the  roads  from 
the  lower  and  upper  fords  came  together.  The 
couple  turned  north  along  the  fence  and  disappeared 
beyond  the  ridge. 


THE  GREEDY  SANDS  93 

For  a  mile  Carolyn  June  and  Skinny  rode  without 
speaking.  He  felt  already  a  reaction  from  his  over- 
boldness  of  a  while  ago  and  silently  swore  at  him- 
self for  his  rashness.  She  was  not  eager  to  resume 
a  conversation  that  had  threatened  a  painfully  emo- 
tional turn.  She  was  quite  content  to  enjoy  the  fresh 
air  of  the  morning,  the  changing  scenes  through 
which  they  passed  and  the  easy  motion  of  the  horse 
on  which  she  was  mounted. 

The  bronchos  pricked  forward  their  ears  at  the 
sound  of  galloping  hoofs. 

"Somebody's  coming,"  Skinny  spoke  as  Pedro, 
riding  rapidly  toward  them,  rounded  the  point  of  a 
low  hill  a  little  distance  ahead. 

"What's  wrong?"  Skinny  questioned,  when  the 
three  met  and  stopped  their  horses. 

"The  pasture  fence  is  bu'sted,"  Pedro  answered ; 
"at  the  northeast  corner  it  is  broke.  The  cattle  are 
out.  Ten — fifteen  maybe — are  dead — the  lightning 
strike  them  perhaps.  The  others  all  of  them  are 
gone.  They  go  pronto,  stampede  I  think,  toward  the 
Purgatory.  Chuck  and  me  can  not  get  them  alone 
— I  go  to  tell  Old  Heck  so  the  boys  will  come  and 
help!" 

It  was  plain  to  Skinny  what  had  occurred.  The 
cattle  had  drifted  before  the  storm  until  stopped  by 
the  wire.  While  crowded  against  it  a  bolt  of  light- 
ning had  struck  the  fence,  followed  the  metal 
strands,  and  killed  the  animals  touching  or  nearest 
to  it.  In  the  fright  the  others  plunged  madly  for- 


§4  'THE'RAMBLIN''  KID 

ward  and  had  broken  their  way  to  freedom.  Five 
hundred  Diamond  Bar  steers,  recently  bought  by 
Old  Heck  and  brought  from  the  Purgatory  forty- 
five  miles  north  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  were  out 
and  rushing  back  to  their  former  range. 

"You  go  help  Chuck,"  Skinny  said  to  Pedro, 
"Carolyn  June  and  me  will  turn  around  and  take 
the  news  to  Old  Heck  and  send  some  of  the  boys  to 
help  you.  If  them  cattle  ain't  bunched  before  they 
hit  the  Purgatory  and  get  scattered  over  their  old 
range  it  will  take  a  month  to  gather  them  and  get 
them  back  again!" 

"Why  don't  you  yourself  go  with  Pedro  and 
Chuck?"  Carolyn  June  asked  Skinny.  "I  can  ride 
to  the  ranch  alone  and  tell  the  others  about  it." 

"I'm  supposed  to  stay  with — "  he  begun. 

"With  me,  I  presume,"  she  interrupted.  "Well, 
this  is  one  time  you  don't.  Go  on  with  the  boys. 
You  are  needed  after  those  steers  a  lot  more  than 
you  are  to  'herd'  me  back  to  the  ranch!" 

Without  waiting  to  argue  she  wheeled  Old  Blue 
toward  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  Skinny  watched 
her  a  moment,  then  started  with  Pedro  in  the  other 
direction.  Suddenly  checking  his  horse  he  swung 
around  in  the  saddle. 

"Go  back  the  way  we  came !"  he  called  after  the 
girl.  "Don't  try  the  upper  ford !" 

Carolyn  June  looked  around  and  threw  up  her 
hand,  motioning  toward  the  north.  Thinking  that 


THE  GREEDY  SANDS  95 

she  understood,  Skinny  touched  Old  Pie  Face  with 
the  spurs  and  soon  overtook  the  Mexican. 

He  was  mistaken.  Carolyn  June  had  not  under- 
stood the  warning.  The  distance  was  too  great  for 
his  words  to  reach  her  distinctly.  She  thought  he 
was  merely  protesting  against  her  going  alone.  At 
the  fork  of  the  road  she  saw  that  the  trail  that  led 
to  the  upper  ford  was  much  the  nearer  way  to  the 
ranch.  Reining  Old  Blue  into  it  she  rode  swiftly 
along  the  ridge  and  down  the  slope  toward  the  dan- 
gerous crossing. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  spent  the  morning  at  the  cir- 
cular corral.  He  was  studying  the  moods  and  work- 
ing to  win  the  confidence  of  the  Gold  Dust  maverick. 
He  was  watching  her  and  thinking  always  a  little 
ahead  of  the  thought  that  was  in  the  mind  of  the 
mare.  His  love  for  a  horse  and  understanding  of 
the  wonderfully  intelligent  animals  was  as  natural 
as  were  the  brown  eyes,  the  soft  low  voice,  the  gen- 
tle but  strong  touch,  by  which  it  was  expressed.  He 
wooed  the  outlaw  filly  thoughtfully,  carefully,  as  a 
lover  courts  a  sweetheart.  The  beautiful  creature 
reminded  him  of  Carolyn  June.  "They  was  made 
for  each  other!"  he  repeated  softly  as  he  worked 
with  the  mare.  From  the  corral  he  could  see  the 
road  across  the  river  where  Skinny  and  the  girl  had 
gone.  Often  he  turned  his  eyes  in  that  direction. 

He  was  fingering  the  garter  in  his  pocket  and 


96  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

looking  toward  the  river  when  Carolyn  June  ap- 
peared on  the  ridge  as  she  returned  alone  to  the 
ranch.  He  stood  and  watched  her.  The  ugly  words 
she  had  spoken  at  the  gate  came  into  his  mind  and 
31  bitter  smile  curled  his  lips.  Still  he  watched  the 
;girl,  expecting  Skinny  would  ride  into  view.  She 
turned  down  the  ridge  toward  the  upper  ford. 

"That's  funny,"  he  thought,  "wonder  where 
Skinny's  at?"  Then  it  flashed  through  his  mind 
that  something  must  be  wrong  for  the  girl  was  rid- 
ing alone.  "Hell!"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "she's  by 
herself  an'  headin'  straight  for  th'  upper  ford!" 
Only  an  instant  he  paused.  "Jack !"  he  cried  sharply, 
running  to  the  corral  gate  and  swinging  it  partly 
open.  "Come — quick!" 

The  roan  stallion  started  at  a  trot  toward  the  gate, 
then,  trained  to  obey  instantly  the  word  of  the  mas- 
ter he  loved  better  than  life,  leaped  nimbly  through 
the  opening.  Slamming  and  fastening  the  gate  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  ran  to  the  shed,  the  broncho  at  his 
side.  He  threw  the  blanket  and  saddle  on  the  little 
roan,  cinched  quickly  but  carefully  the  double  gear, 
slipped  the  bit  into  the  waiting  mouth  of  the^  horse 
and  without  stopping  to  put  on  his  chaps  sprang  on 
Captain  Jack's  back  and  whirled  him  in  a  dead  run 
around  the  corner  of  the  shed  and  down  the  lane 
toward  the  north.  At  the  pasture  corral  below  the 
barn  he  guided  the  broncho  close  to  the  fence  and 
scarcely  checking  him  leaned  over  and  lifted  a  rope, 
coiled  and  hung  on  a  post  near  the  gate,  from  its 


THE  GREEDY  SANDS  97 

place — the  one  Chuck  that  morning  had  left  be- 
cause of  the  flaw. 

"God!"  he  groaned,  " — an'  a  bad  rope!" 

He  glanced  toward  the  ridge  across  the  river. 
Carolyn  June  had  disappeared  down  the  trail  that 
led  to  the  upper  ford. 

"Go,  Little  Man,  go — for  th'  love  of  God,  go !" 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  whispered  as  he  leaned  forward 
over  the  neck  of  the  horse.  Captain  Jack  answered 
the  agonized  appeal  as  he  would  never  have  re- 
sponded to  the  cruel  cut  of  spurs  and  leaped  ahead 
in  a  desperate  race  to  beat  Old  Blue  and  his  precious 
burden  to  the  greedy  sands  of  the  Cimarron. 

As  he  rode,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  slipped  his  hand 
around  the  coils  of  the  rope  till  his  fingers  found  the 
broken  strands  that  told  of  the  weakness  that  caused 
Chuck  to  leave  it  behind  that  morning.  Bending 
over  it,  while  his  horse  ran,  he  worked  frantically 
to  weave  a  rawhide  saddle  string  into  the  fiber  and 
so  strengthen  the  dangerous  spot. 

Thinking  only  to  reach  the  ranch  as  quickly  as 
possible  Carolyn  June  guided  Old  Blue  down  the 
trail  and  through  the  thin  patches  of  willows  and 
cottonwood  trees  that  grew  along  the  river.  The 
stream  looked  innocent  enough  and  the  crossing  per- 
fectly safe.  Swift  but  apparently  shallow  water 
flowed  close  to  the  northern  bank.  Beyond  that  was 
a  clean,  pebble  strewn  bar  and  then  a  smaller,  nar- 
rower prong  of  the  river.  On  the  south  side 


98  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID' 

stretched  a  white,  unbroken  expanse  of  sand  a  hun- 
dred feet  or  more  wide  and  ending  against  the  low 
slope  of  the  meadow  land. 

At  the  brink  of  the  stream  Old  Blue  stopped  short 
and  refused  to  go  on. 

."What's  the  matter,"  Carolyn  June  laughed 
lightly,  " — afraid  of  getting  your  'little  tootsies' 
wet?" 

The  horse  reared  backward  when  she  tried  to 
urge  him  ahead  and  wheeled  half  around  in  an  effort 
to  get  away  from  the  water. 

"Look  here,  Old  Fellow,"  she  spoke  sharply, 
tightening  the  reins  as  she  touched  his  flank  with 
her  spur,  "we  haven't  time  for  foolishness!  Gen- 
erally, in  fact  always,"  accenting  the  last  word, 
"horses — and  men — go  in  the  direction  I  want  them 
to  go !  Why,  you're  as  stubborn — as — as  the  Ram- 
blin'  Kid !"  she  finished  with  another  laugh  as  Old 
Blue,  with  a  snort  of  fear,  yet  not  daring  to  resist 
further  the  firm  hand  and  firmer  will  of  his  rider, 
stepped  into  the  water. 

"Gee,  when  you  do  start  you  go  in  a  hurry,  don't 
you?"  Carolyn  June  said  as  the  broncho  went  rap- 
idly forward  as  if  eager  to  negotiate  the  crossing, 
seeming  to  know  that  safety  lay  in  the  quickness 
and  lightness  of  his  tread.  As  he  lunged  ahead  the 
girl  had  the  sensation  that  the  saddle  was  sinking 
from  under  her.  Reaching  the  firmer  footing  of 
the  gravel  bar  in  the  center  of  the  stream  Old  Blue 
tried  again  to  turn  about. 


THE  GREEDY  SANDS  99 

"Go  on !"  Carolyn  June  cried  impatiently  yet  with 
a  feeling  somehow  of  impending  danger  she  could 
not  wholly  define,  " — you've  got  to  do  it,  so  you 
had  as  well  quit  your  nonsense  and  go  ahead!"  at 
the  same  time  raking  the  horse's  sides  sharply  again 
with  the  spurs. 

Crossing  the  shallow  branch  of  the  river  the  bron- 
cho reached  the  smooth,  firm  appearing  beach  of 
sand. 

With  his  head  down,  his  muzzle  almost  touching 
the  ground,  as  if  scenting,  feeling,  his  way,  he  went 
forward  stepping  rapidly,  easily,  as  possible.  At 
each  step  his  foot  slipped  lower  into  the  yielding, 
quivering  mass.  Carolyn  June  felt  him  tremble  and 
the  sensation  that  the  horse  was  being  pulled  from 
under  her  grew  more  and  more  pronounced.  She 
noticed  how  he  sank  into  the  sand  and  observed 
also  the  sweat  beginning  to  darken  the  hair  on  the 
neck  of  her  mount. 

"Pretty  soft,  isn't  it?"  she  said,  speaking  to  the 
broncho  kindly  as  though  to  encourage  him  and  per- 
haps at  the  same  time  to  allay  a  bit  the  queer  sense 
of  uneasiness  she  felt,  for  even  yet  she  did  not  real- 
ize the  danger  into  which  she  had  unknowingly 
ridden. 

Half-way  to  the  firm  black  soil  of  the  southern 
bank  of  the  stream  Old  Blue's  front  feet  seemed 
suddenly  to  give  way  beneath  him.  He  began  to 
plunge  desperately.  Then  it  was  the  truth  came  to 
Carolyn  June.  Her  cheeks  grew  white. 


'100  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

'The  quicksand!"  she  exclaimed  aloud,  at  the 
same  time  trying  to  help  the  horse  with  a  lift  of  the 
reins.  It  was  too  late  to  turn  back.  Her  only  sal- 
vation lay  in  reaching  the  solid  ground  such  a  few 
yards  ahead — and  yet  so  fearfully  far  away.  Old 
Blue  struggled  madly  to  go  forward,  gaining  a  little 
but  at  each  effort  sinking  deeper  into  the  sand. 
Carolyn  June  tried  to-  encourage  him  with  words : 

"Come  on,  come  on!  Good  Little  Horse — you 
can  make  it !  Keep  trying — that's  it — now ! — you're 
doing  it!  Brave  Old  Blue — don't  give  up — don't 
give  up,  Boy !"  she  pleaded,  pity  for  the  horse  caus- 
ing her  almost  to  forget  her  own  terrible  peril. 

It  was  useless. 

Twenty-five  feet  from  safety  Old  Blue's  front 
quarters  went  down  until  his  breast  was  against 
the  sand.  The  hind  legs  were  buried  to  the  stifles. 
He  wallowed  and  floundered  helplessly.  His  hoofs 
touched  nothing  solid  on  which  to  stand.  He 
stretched  his  head  forward,  straining  to  lift  himself 
away  from  that  horrible,  clinging  suction.  His  ef- 
forts only  forced  him  down — down — always  down! 

Carolyn  June's  own  feet  were  in  the  sand.  She 
threw  herself  from  the  saddle — as  far  to  one  side 
and  ahead  of  the  horse  as  she  could.  With  her 
weight  removed  perhaps  Old  Blue  could  get  out. 
Anyway  it  was  death  to  stay  on  the  horse.  Perhaps 
alone  she  could  escape — she  was  lighter — the  sand 
might  hold  her  up — by  moving  rapidly  surely  she 
could  go  that  short  twenty-five  feet  to  the  firm 


THE  GREEDY  SANDS  101 

ground  ahead  of  her.  At  the  first  step  she  sank 
half-way  to  her  thigh.  She  fell  forward  thinking 
to  crawl  on  her  hands  and  knees.  Her  arms  went 
into  the  mass  to  the  shoulder.  Silently — without  a 
word — but  with  horrible  fear  gripping  her  heart  she 
fought  the  sand.  She  sank  deeper — slowly — stead- 
ily— surely.  The  hellish  stuff  closed  about  her  body 
to  the  waist.  If  she  only  had  something — anything 
— solid  to  hold  to!  She  took  off  her  hat,  grasped 
the  edges  of  the  brim,  reached  her  arms  out  and 
tried  to  use  the  frail  disk  of  felt  for  a  buoy.  It 
held  a  moment  then  gradually  settled  below  the  sur- 
face of  the  shifting,  elusive  substance.  Again  and 
again  she  lifted  the  hat  free  from  the  sand  and 
sought  to  place  it  so  it  would  bear  a  part  at  least 
of  her  weight.  Her  efforts  were  vain.  The  insidi- 
ous mass  crept  higher  and  higher  on  her  body.  She 
remembered  reading  that  one  caught  in  the  quick- 
sand by  his  struggles  only  hastened  his  own  de- 
struction. She  tried  to  be  perfectly  still.  In  spite 
of  all  she  was  sinking — sinking — the  sand  was  en- 
gulfing her. 

During  all  her  struggles  Carolyn  June  remained 
silent.  She  had  not  thought  to  cry  out.  Somehow 
she  could  not  realize  that  she  was  to  die.  The  sun 
was  bright,  the  sky  cloudless,  the  trees  along  the 
river-bank  barely  swayed  in  a  little  breeze!  How 
beautiful  the  world!  How  queer  that  such  a  little 
distance  away  was  the  green  grass  of  the  meadow 
and  the  firm  black  earth  in  which  it  was  rooted  and 


102  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

she — she  was  held  fast  and  helpless  in  the  embrace 
of  the  deadly  sand!  Strange  thoughts  rushed 
through  her  mind.  She  wondered  what  they  would 
think  at  the  ranch  when  night  came  and  she  did  not 
return.  Would  they  know  ?  Would  they  guess  the 
thing  that  had  happened?  Would  the  sand  draw 
her  down — down — until  it  covered  her  so  none 
would  ever  know  where  or  how  she  died?  She 
looked  at  Old  Blue.  "Poor  old  fellow !"  she  whis- 
pered, "I  am  sorry — I  didn't  know — it  looked  so 
white  and  firm  and  safe !"  The  sand  was  half-way 
up  the  sides  of  the  horse  and  he  swayed  his  body  in 
pathetic,  futile  efforts  to  free  himself. 

A  strange  calm  came  over  Carolyn  June.  So  this 
was  the  end  ?  She  was  to  die  alone,  horribly,  in  the 
treacherous  sands  of  the  Cimarron?  Surely  it  could 
not  be —  God  would  not  let  her  die!  She  was  so 
young !  She  had  just  begun  to  live —  She  thought 
of  Hartville,  her  father,  the  old  friends.  How  far 
away  they  seemed!  How  queer  it  was — she  could 
not  image  in  her  mind  any  of  the  familiar  scenes, 
the  face  of  her  father  or  any  of  the  friends  she  had 
known  so  well!  She  tried  to  think  of  her  Uncle 
Josiah,  Ophelia,  Skinny  Rawlins — poor  fellow,  how 
susceptible  was  his  big,  innocent,  boyish  heart !  She 
called  each  one  up  in  a  mental  effort  to  remember 
how  they  had  looked,  the  sound  of  their  voices — 
they  were  only  names — dim  shadowy  names !  There 
was  nothing  in  the  whole  world  but  Old  Blue — her- 
self^—and  the  sand — the  sand — an  eternity  of  sand 


THE  GREEDY  SANDS  103 

pulling,  dragging,  sucking  her  down!  She  closed 
her  eyes  tightly,  thinking  to  shut  out  the  impression 
of  utter  loneliness.  The  face  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
flashed  into  her  mind !  She  could  see  him !  She  saw 
him  lying  under  the  shed,  as  he  had  looked  that 
morning,  his  head  resting  on  the  saddle,  his  eyes 
gazing  steadily  into  her  own;  she  saw  him  again  as 
he  had  looked  when  she  stung  him  with  her  harsh 
words  at  the  gate.  She  seemed  to  see  the  agonized 
humility  in  his  expression  and  hear  the  low  tense- 
ness of  his  voice  as  he  repeated  aloud  the  words  she 
had  used —  "An  ign'rant,  savage,  stupid  brute!" 
She  laughed  almost  hysterically.  "Why  can  I  see 
him — just  him — and  not  the  others?  Has  he  come 
to — to — haunt  me  ?"  she  finished  with  a  gasp. 

The  sand  had  reached  her  breast.  How  long  be- 
fore it  clutched  at  her  throat?  Her  mouth?  Her 
eyes?  Ah,  would  she  hold  up  her  arm  as  she  went 
down — down — and  reach  out  her  hand  as  if  to  wave 
the  world  a  last,  long  farewell?  "I  will — I  will!" 
she  cried,  the  pressure  around  her  body  almost  stop- 
ping her  breath,  "I — I — will — and — wiggle  my  fin- 
gers to  the  end !"  she  added  with  a  choking  half- 
hysterical  laugh,  so  tightly  did  she  cling  to  life.  Her 
mood  changed.  "I — guess — I  ought  to  pray!"  she 
said,  "but — I — God — God  knows  anyhow !"  her 
voice  trailing  away  to  a  whisper  as  if  she  had  grown 
suddenly,  utterly,  tired.  She  stretched  out  her  hands 
once  more  with  the  hat,  trying  to  use  it  to  buoy  her 
up.  Under  the  weight  of  her  arms  it  sank  in  the 


104  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

sand.  She  tossed  it  to  one  side.  "It  will — stay — on 
top  by  itself,"  she  choked.  "I — I — will  leave  it — 
maybe  they  will  find  it — and  know — "  She  felt  her 
senses  were  leaving  her.  Even  yet  she  had  not  called 
for  help.  It  had  not  occurred  to  her  that  rescue  was 
possible.  As  if  it  were  an  echo  to  her  thoughts  there 
came  the  throbbing  tattoo  of  hoofs  pounding  the 
earth.  She  listened  intently.  Some  one  was  riding 
down  the  lane  toward  the  river  from  the  ranch !  The 
horse  was  evidently  running — running  madly,  des- 
perately. Would  he  cross  at  the  upper  or  lower 
ford?  Her  heart  pulsed  with  heavy  dull  throbs. 
The  sand  was  crushing  her  chest.  A  wave  of  weak- 
ness swept  over  her.  She  almost  fainted.  At  that 
instant  Captain  Jack,  carrying  the  Ramblin'  Kid, 
leaped  through  an  opening  in  the  willows  and 
stopped — his  front  feet  plowing  the  firm  ground  at 
the  edge  of  the  quivering  beach  of  sand. 

"Pure  luck!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  breathed  fer- 
vently, his  eye  quickly  measuring  the  distance  to 
the  nearly  exhausted  girl ;  "she's  close  enough  I  can 
reach  her  with  th'  rope!  God,  if  it'll  only  hold!" 
Already  the  coils  were  in  his  hand.  With  a  single 
backward  fling  of  the  noose  and  forward  toss  he 
dropped  the  loop  over  the  head  of  Carolyn  June. 

"Pull  it  up — close — under  your  arms!"  he  com- 
manded shortly,  "an'  hang  on  with  your  hands  to 
take  th'  strain  off  your  body !" 

The  girl  obeyed  without  a  word. 

He  double  half -hitched  the  rope  to  the  horn  of 


THE  GREEDY  SANDS  105 

the  saddle,  swung  Captain  Jack  around.  "Look 
out !"  he  called  to  the  girl  as  he  started  away  from 
the  brink  of  the  sand.  "Steady,  Boy,  be  careful— 
to  the  broncho.  The  slack  gradually  tightened.  The 
strain  drew  on  Carolyn  June's  arms  till  it  seemed 
they  would  be  pulled  from  the  sockets.  The  rope 
cut  cruelly  into  her  body  under  her  shoulders.  She 
wanted  to  cry — to  scream — to  laugh.  She  did 
neither.  She  threw  back  her  head  and  clung  with 
all  her  strength  to  the  rough  lariat,  stretched  taut 
as  a  cable  of  steel. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  leaned  forward  in  the  saddle, 
his  body  half  turned,  eyes  looking  back  along  the 
straight  line  of  the  severely  tested  rope.   He  swore 
softly,  steadily,  under  his  breath.    "God — if  it  will' 
only  hold — if  it  only  don't  break!" 

Slowly,  surely,  the  little  stallion  leaned  his  weight 
against  the  tensely  drawn  riata  and  Carolyn  June" 
felt  herself  lifted,  inch  by  inch,  out  of  the  sand  that 
engulfed  her.  At  last  she  fell  forward — her  body 
free.  Without  stopping  the  horse  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
continued  away  from  the  river-bank  and  dragged 
the  girl  across  the  yielding  surface  to  the  solid  earth 
and  safety.  The  instant  she  was  where  he  could 
reach  her  he  whirled  Captain  Jack  and  rode  quickly 
back.  Carolyn  June  was  trying  to  get  to  her  feet 
when  he  sprang  from  the  broncho  and  helped  her  to 
the  firm  ground  on  which  he  stood.  She  was  panting 
and  exhausted. 

"Get — get — Old    Blue    out!"    she    gasped    and 


106  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

dropped  limply  down  on  the  grass,  fingering  at  the 
rope  to  remove  it  from  around  her  body. 

"Danged  if  she  ain't  got  more  heart  than  I 
thought  she  had !"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  said  to  himself 
as  he  lifted  the  loop  from  over  her  head.  "I'm  goin' 
to,"  he  said  aloud,  "if  I  can — but — I'm  afraid  he's 
gone.  I'll  try  anyhow — you  lay  there  an'  rest — "  at 
the  same  time  remounting  his  horse. 

The  sand  covered  the  rump  of  Old  Blue.  The 
saddle,  Parker's  it  was,  was  nearly  submerged,  only 
the  horn  and  cantle  showing  above  the  slimy  mass. 
His  head,  neck  and  the  top  of  his  withers  were  yet 
exposed.  He  still  struggled,  wallowing  feebly, 
vainly  resisting  the  downward  pull  of  the  sand. 
Crouching,  as  if  fascinated  by  the  terrible  scene, 
Carolyn  June  watched  as  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  waiting 
his  opportunity,  at  the  instant  the  horse  in  the 
sand  lifted  his  head  deftly  flung  the  rope  over  his 
neck.  With  a  short  jerk  of  the  wrist  he  tightened 
the  noose  till  it  closed  snugly  about  the  throat  of 
the  broncho.  Again  turning  Captain  Jack  away 
from  the  bank  he  urged  him  slowly  forward.  The 
rope  stiffened.  The  little  stallion  bunched  himself 
and  desperately  strained  against  the  dead  weight 
of  Old  Blue,  multiplied  many  times  by  the  suction 
of  the  sand.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  leaned  far  over  the 
neck  of  Captain  Jack  to  give  the  horse  the  advan- 
tage of  his  own  weight  and  looked  back,  watching 
the  supreme  efforts  of  the  mired  broncho  as  he 
fought  to  climb  out  of  the  sand.  A  moment  it  looked 


THE  GREEDY  SANDS  107. 

as  if  the  little  roan  would  drag  him  out.  Slowly  he 
seemed  to  be  raising  and  moving  forward.  There 
was  a  sharp  snap.  Half-way  down  its  length  the 
lariat  parted.  At  the  weak  spot  the  strain  was  too 
great.  Captain  Jack  plunged  forward  to  his  knees, 
his  nose  rooting  the  earth,  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
barely  saved  himself  from  pitching  over  the  horse's 
head. 

"That's  what  I  was  dreadin' — "  he  said  as  he 
turned  and  rode  back  to  the  edge  of  the  sand. 

Carolyn  June  gazed,  wide-eyed,  speechless  with 
horror,  at  the  horse  in  the  sand.  When  the  rope 
broke,  Old  Blue,  with  a  groan  almost  human,  sank 
back  and  quickly  settled  down  until  only  his  head 
and  part  of  his  neck  were  exposed  to  view.  The 
Ramblin'  Kid  looked  at  the  broken  rope — the  end 
fastened  around  the  throat  of  Old  Blue  had  whipped 
back  and  was  lying  far  beyond  the  cowboy's  reach. 
The  piece  half -hitched  to  the  saddle  horn  was  too 
short  for  another  throw.  Old  Blue  was  doomed. 
Carolyn  June  saw  him  sinking  gradually,  surely, 
into  the  sand.  It  seemed  ages.  His  eyes  appealed 
with  dumb  pathos  to  the  group  on  the  bank.  They 
could  hear  his  breath  coming  in  harsh,  terrible 
gasps.  The  sand  seemed  to  be  deliberately  torturing 
him  as  though  it  were  some  hellish  thing,  alive  and 
of  fiendish  cunning,  that  grasped  its  victim  and  then 
paused  in  his  destruction  to  gloat  over  his  hopeless, 
agony. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  sat  Captain  Jack  and  watched. 


•108  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Why  did  God  ever  want  to  make  that  stuff 
anyhow!"  sprang  hoarsely  from  his  lips.  He  was 
torn  between  blind  unreasoning  anger  at  the  quick- 
sand and  pity  for  the  struggling  horse.  Suddenly 
he  jerked  the  forty- four,  always  on  his  saddle, 
from  its  holster.  As  the  gun  swung  back  and  then 
forward  there  was  a  crashing  report  and  Old  Blue's 
head  dropped,  with  a  convulsive  shudder,  limp  on 
the  sand. 

Carolyn  June  screamed  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands. 

At  the  sound  of  the  shot  Captain  Jack  stiffened 
and  stood  rigid.  The  Ramblin'  Kid,  his  face  white 
and  drawn,  sat  and  looked  dry-eyed  at  the  red 
stream  oozing  from  the  round  hole  just  below  the 
brow-band  of  the  bridle  on  the  head  of  the  horse 
he  had  killed. 

"I — I — would  have  wanted  somebody  to  do  it  to 
me!"  he  said  softly  and  rode  to  the  side  of  the  girl 
huddled  on  the  ground.  He  dismounted  and  stood, 
without  speaking,  looking  down  at  her  shaking 
form.  After  a  time  she  looked  up,  through  eyes 
drenched  with  tears,  into  his  face.  Then  as  if  drawn 
by  an  irresistible  impulse — one  she  could  not  deny 
—she  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  the  spot  where 
Old  Blue  had  fought  his  last  battle  with  the  quick- 
sands of  the  Cimarron.  A  crimson  stain,  already 
darkening,  on  the  white  surface;  a  few  square  feet 
of  disturbed  and  broken  sand,  even  now  settling  into 
the  smooth,  innocent-looking  tranquillity  that  hid 


THE  GREEDY  SANDS  109 

the  death  lurking  in  its  depths;  a  short  length  of 
rope,  one  end  drawn  beneath  the  sand,  the  other 
lying  in  a  sprawling  coil;  her  hat  resting  a  little 
distance  to  one  side,  were  all  that  remained  to  tell 
the  story  of  the  grim  tragedy  of  the  morning.  She 
shuddered  and  looked  once  more  into  the  pain-filled 
eyes  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 

"We'd  better  be  goin',"  he  said  quietly,  "you're 
wet  an'  them  clothes  must  be  uncomfortable.  You 
can  ride  Captain  Jack!" 

She  stood  up  weak  and  trembling. 

"I — I — thought  Captain  Jack  was  an  outlaw," 
she  said  with  a  faint  smile.  "He  won't  let  me  ride 
him,  will  he?" 

"He'll  let  you,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  answered  dully, 
"no  woman  ever  has  rode  him — or  any  other  man 
only  me — but  he'll  let  you !" 

As  she  approached  the  stallion  he  raised  his  head 
and  looked  at  her  with  a  queer  mixture  of  curiosity 
and  antagonism,  curving  his  neck  in  a  challenging 
way. 

"Jack!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  spoke  sharply  but 
kindly  to  the  horse,  "be  careful!  It's  all  right,  Boy 
— you're  goin'  to  carry  double  this  one  time !" 

The  broncho  stood  passive  while  the  Ramblm* 
Kid  helped  Carolyn  June  to  his  back. 

"You  set  behind,"  he  said,  "it'll  be  easier  to  hold 
on  an'  I  can  handle  th'  horse  better !" 

She  slipped  back  of  the  saddle  and  he  swung  up 
on  to  the  little  roan.  With  one  hand  Carolyn  June 


110  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

grasped  the  cantle  of  the  saddle,  the  other  she 
reached  up  and  laid  on  the  arm  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
• — the  touch  sent  a  thrill  through  her  body  and  the 
cowboy  felt  a  response  that  made  his  heart  quiver  as 
they  turned  and  rode  toward  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 

For  a  mile  neither  spoke. 

"I — I — am  sorry  for  what — I  said  this  morn- 
ing," Carolyn  June  whispered  at  last  haltingly, 
feeling  intuitively  that  the  cruel  words — "an  ig- 
norant, savage,  stupid  brute" — were  repeating  them- 
selves in  her  companion's  mind. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  answered  without  looking 
around  and  in  a  voice  without  emotion,  "it  was  th' 
truth — "  with  a  hopeless  laugh.  "I'm  a  damn'  fool 
besides !" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

QUICK  WITH  A  VENGEANCE 

OLD  HECK  rode  in  advance  of  Charley  and 
Bert  as  the  trio  returned  from  repairing  the 
fences  wrecked  by  the  flood  that  had  swept  over  the 
east  bottom-lands  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  All 
morning  he  had  been  silent  and  morose.  Only  when 
necessary  had  he  spoken  while  he  directed  the  cow- 
boys at  their  labor,  helped  them  reset  posts,  or  un- 
tangle twisted  wires  and  build  up  again  that  which 
the  rush  of  water  had  torn  down.  The  damage  had 
not  been  great  and  by  noon  the  fence  was  as  good 
as  new.  As  soon  as  the  breaks  were  mended  the 
moody  owner  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  mounted 
his  horse  and  started  for  the  house. 

"Them  women  coming  or  something  has  got  Old 
Heck's  goat,"  Bert  remarked  to  Charley  as  they 
climbed  on  their  horses  and  followed  a  moment 
later. 

"Something's  got  it,"  Charley  answered,  "he  ain't 
acted  natural  all  day — do  you  reckon  he's  sore  be- 
cause Parker  took  the  widow  to  town?" 

"Darned  if  I  know,"  Bert  said  doubtfully,  "that 
might  be  it." 

"Well,  he's  feverish  and  disagreeable  for  some 
111 


112  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

reason  or  other  and  that's  the  way  people  generally 
get  when  they're  jealous,"  Charley  observed  sagely. 

"He  hadn't  ought  to  be,"  Bert  argued,  "it's  Par- 
ker's day  to  keep  company  with  Ophelia,  and  Old 
Heck  and  him  agreed  to  split.'' 

"If  he's  in  love  he  won't  split,"  Charley  retorted 
with  conviction,  "I  never  saw  two  men  take  turn 
about  loving  the  same  woman  yet.  It  can't  be  done !" 

"The  woman  wouldn't  object,  would  she?"  Bert 
queried. 

"Probably  not,"  Charley  replied,  "at  least  not  as 
long  as  double  doses  of  affection  was  coming  her 
way.  From  what  I've  heard  most  of  'em  sort  of 
enjoy  having  as  many  men  make  love  to  'em  as 
possible,  but — "  he  paused. 

"But  what?" 

"They  kick  if  a  man  loves  several  women  at 
once!"  was  the  sophisticated  reply.  "But  as  far 
-as  that's  concerned,"  he  continued,  speaking  as  a 
man  wise  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  "men  and 
women  ain't  much  different  in  that  respect.  When 
it  comes  to  loving,  both  sides  are  plumb  willing  to 
divide  up  'a-going*  but  want  it  to  be  clean  exclusive 
when  it  comes  to  'coming !'  " 

"It's  funny,  ain't  it?"  Bert  commented. 

"No,  it  ain't  funny,"  Charley  declared.  "It's  just 
natural — " 

"Maybe  Parker  and  Old  Heck  will  have  a  fight 
about  Ophelia,"  Bert  suggested  hopefully.  "Which 
t3o  you  suppose  would  lick  ?" 


QUICK  WITH  A  VENGEANCE       113 

"It's  hard  telling,"  Charley  said  thoughtfully. 
"Old  Heck's  the  heaviest,  but  Parker's  pretty  ac- 
tive." 

"Well,  it  sure  does  seem  like  wherever  women 
are  trouble  is,  don't  it?"  Bert  observed  meditatively. 

"Blamed  if  it  don't,"  Charley  agreed;  "there's 
something  about  them  that's  plum  agitating!" 

Old  Heck,  riding  a  short  distance  ahead  of  the 
cowboys,  was  troubled  with  similar  thoughts.  He 
was  trying  to  analyze  his  own  feelings.  Years  with- 
out association  with  womankind  had  made  him 
come  to  regard  them  with  a  measure  of  indifference 
and  suspicion.  He  had  developed  the  idea  that 
women  existed  chiefly  for  the  purpose  of  disorgan- 
izing the  morale  of  the  masculine  members  of  the 
race.  He  was  very  sincere  in  this  belief.  Yet  he  was 
forced,  now,  to  confess  that  he  found  something 
interesting  in  having  a  couple  of  attractive  females 
at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  The  situation  was  not  so 
disagreeable  as  he  had  expected.  Already  he  was 
proud  of  his  kinship  to  Carolyn  June.  She  was  a 
niece  worth  while.  Ophelia  also  had  proved  herself 
a  pleasant  surprise.  He  had  pictured  her  as  a  strong- 
minded,  assertive,  modernized  creature  who  would 
probably  discourse  continuously  and  raspingly  about 
the  evils  of  smoking,  profanity,  poker,  drinking  and 
other  natural  masculine  impulses.  Instead,  she  had 
proved  herself,  so  far,  a  perfect  lady.  Without 
doubt  she  was  the  most  sensible  widow  he  had  ever 
met.  The  thought  of  Parker's  long,  intimate  ride 


114  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

with  her  to  Eagle  Butte  made  him  uncomfortable. 
It  was  a  darned  fool  arrangement — that  agreement 
that  he  and  his  foreman  were  to  divide  time  in  the 
entertainment  of  Ophelia.  He  could  have  done  it 
alone  just  as  well  as  not.  Anyway  the  dual  plan 
was  liable  to  cause  confusion.  Oh,  well,  Parker 
would  be  out  on  the  beef  hunt  next  week.  By  rights 
it  ought  not  start  for  ten  days  yet,  but — well,  it 
wouldn't  hurt  to  move  it  up  a  little.  He  would  do 
that.  Then  he  remembered  the  frank  admiration  the 
cowboys  had  shown  toward  Carolyn  June.  This 
suggested  complications  in  that  direction. 

"Thunderation !"  he  said  aloud,  "it's  a  good  thing 
we  fixed  it  up  for  just  Skinny  to  make  love  to  her 
— if  we  hadn't  there'd  have  been  a  regular  epidemic 
of  bu'sted  hearts  on  this  blamed  ranch!  There 
wouldn't  have  been  a  buckaroo  on  the  place  that 
could  have  kept  from  mooning  around  sentimental 
— unless  it  was  th'  Ramblin'  Kid,"  he  added ;  "that 
blamed  cuss  is  too  independent  and  indifferent  to 
fall  in  love  with  any  female !" 

At  the  barn  Charley  and  Bert  overtook  Old  Heck. 
The  three  unsaddled  and  fed  their  horses  and  started 
toward  the  house  for  dinner.  Sing  Pete  had  seen 
them  coming  and  immediately  pounded  the  triangle. 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  gone  somewhere  again," 
Bert  observed  as  he  noticed  the  Gold  Dust  maverick 
alone  in  the  circular  corral.  "Captain  Jack's  not 
with  the  filly — " 

"Yonder  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  comes  now,"  Charley 


said,  looking  toward  the  north;  "he's  been  over  to 
the  river — what  the  devil  kind  of  a  combination  is 
that?"  he  exclaimed  as  he  got  a  better  view  of  the 
horse  coming  up  the  lane.  "Him  and  that  girl  both 
are  riding  Captain  Jack." 

"Blamed  if  they  ain't,"  Bert  said  curiously;  "it's 
a  wonder  Captain  Jack'll  let  them.  But  how  does 
that  come,  anyhow?  Where's  Skinny?  I  thought  it 
was  his  job  to  ride  herd  on  Carolyn  June — " 

"It  is  his  job,"  Old  Heck  interrupted,  "I  don't 
understand — something  must  have  gone  wrong,"  he 
added  excitedly  as  the  stallion  with  his  double  bur- 
den drew  near.  "Carolyn  June's  all  wet  and  she's 
lost  her  hat." 

Turning  his  horse  toward  the  house,  when  he 
reached  the  end  of  the  lane  and  with  but  a  glance  at 
the  trio  standing  at  the  barn,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  rode 
straight  to  the  back-yard  gate.  Old  Heck  and  the 
cowboys  hurried  across  the  open  space  and  reached 
the  gate  just  as  Carolyn  June  rather  stiffly  dis- 
mounted from  the  little  roan.  Her  hair  was  dis- 
arranged, her  riding  suit  soiled  and  wet  from  the 
sand  and  water,  but  her  eyes  were  bright,  cheeks 
flushed,  and  she  showed  only  a  trace  of  nervousness. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Old  Heck  asked  uneasily, 
"what's  happened?  Where's  Skinny?" 

In  a  few  words,  while  the  Ramblin'  Kid  sat  si- 
lently on  the  back  of  Captain  Jack,  Carolyn  June 
told  of  the  ride  across  the  river;  the  meeting  with 
Pedro  and  the  message  he  brought  that  the  cattle 


116  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

were  out  and  some  had  been  killed  by  lightning;  of 
sending  Skinny  with  the  Mexican  to  help  with  the 
steers;  of  her  return  alone  toward  the  ranch,  the 
struggle  in  the  quicksand  and  the  death  of  the  horse 
she  had  been  riding. 

"Poor  Old  Blue — poor  old  fellow!"  she  finished 
with  a  little  catch  in  her  voice. 

Old  Heck's  cheeks  whitened  as  he  listened. 

"Good  lord,"  he  half-groaned,  "you  had  a  close 
call!  It's  lucky  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  saw  you  coming 
toward  the  upper  ford — if  he  hadn't — you'd  never 
got  out!  But  go  on  into  the  house  and  get  some 
dry  clothes  on.  Boys,  we'll  have  to  hurry  up  and 
eat  dinner  and  then  go  help  get  them  steers  back.  I 
wish  Parker  was  here — we'll  need  all  the  help  we 
can  get.  You'd  better  catch  up  another  horse,"  he 
continued,  speaking  to  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  "Captain 
Jack  is  probably  worn  out  from  chasing  that  Gold 
Dust  maverick  last  night,  and  if  you  ain't  too  tired 
yourself,  go  with  us — " 

"I  ain't  too  tired,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  replied 
quietly,  "I'll  go — an'  ride  Captain  Jack — he  ain't 
done  up."  He  took  the  broncho  to  the  corral,  re- 
moved the  saddle  and  turned  him  in  with  the  outlaw 
mare.  After  giving  the  horses  fresh  hay — there  was 
water  in  the  corral,  supplied  by  a  small  ditch  that 
was  fed  from  the  larger  irrigation  canal  and  which 
ran  under  one  side  of  the  fence — he  joined  the 
others  at  dinner. 

An  hour  later  Old  Heck,  Bert,  Charley  and  the 


QUICK  WITH  A  VENGEANCE       117 

Ramblin'  Kid  rode  away  from  the  ranch  to  help 
Chuck,  Skinny  and  Pedro  round  up  and  return  to 
the  big  pasture  the  cattle  that  had  broken  out  and 
were  rushing  toward  their  old  range  on  the  Purga- 
tory. 

Carolyn  June  was  left  alone  with  Sing  Pete,  the 
Chinese  cook  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  She  still 
felt  somewhat  shaken  from  her  experience  of  the 
morning,  although  a  bath,  clean  dry  clothing  and  the 
meal  had  refreshed  her  considerably.  She  carried  a 
chair  to  the  front  porch,  thinking  to  spend  the  after- 
noon resting.  The  events  of  the  day  raced  in  review 
through  her  mind.  It  did  not  seem  possible  so  much 
could  have  happened  in  so  short  a  time.  Only  yes- 
terday had  Ophelia  and  she  arrived  at  the  ranch. 
Already  she  had  the  feeling  that  they  both  were 
fixtures,  and  had  been  indefinitely,  at  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT.  The  elemental  atmosphere  of  the  range 
country  had  completely  enveloped  her,  seemed  to 
have  absorbed  her,  and  made  her  a  part  of  it. 
Some  way  she  rather  delighted  in  this  sensation  of 
permanency.  Her  rescue  by  the  Ramblin'  Kid  and 
the  close  view  she  had  been  able  to  get  of  his  im- 
pulses made  her  thrill  with  a  queer  mixture  of  ad- 
miration and  pity  for  him  even  while  his  brutal 
answer  when  she  had  apologized  for  her  harsh 
words  still  echoed  in  her  mind. 

"Gracious,"  she  thought  with  a  whimsical  smile, 
"things  move  fast  in  this  western  country!" 

She  had  seen,  already,  that  both  her  Uncle  Josiah 


118  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

and  Parker  were  yielding  to  the  charms  of  Ophelia. 
The  fancy  made  her  chuckle.  She  remembered 
Skinny's  too  rapidly  developing  tenderness  toward 
herself.  "Poor  fellow,"  she  murmured,  slowly  shak- 
ing her  head,  "I  wish  he  wouldn't!  But  I  suppose 
he  can't  help  it — I  wonder  why  men  are  always 
falling  in  love  with  me,  anyhow?  I'm  sure  I  don't 
try  to  make  them !  I  never  saw  one  yet  I  really 
wanted  to  care — "  she  stopped  suddenly  while  a 
warm  flush  spread  over  her  body  as  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  was  imaged  rather  vividly  in  her  mind.  "Non- 
sense!" she  said  aloud  with  a  soft,  throaty  laugh. 
"Carolyn  June,  you  are  getting  silly !" 

She  sprang  up  and  went  into  the  house. 

"Sing  Pete,"  she  said,  stepping  into  the  kitchen, 
"may  I  have  some  sugar — I'd  like  the  lumpy  kind 
if  you  have  it?" 

"Sure!  You  have  him  sugal — how  muchee  you 
want  ?"  as  he  held  out  to  her  a  tin  containing  squares 
of  the  desired  article. 

"Oh,  enough  to  win  a  heart !"  Carolyn  June  an- 
swered laughing,  at  the  same  time  taking  a  handful 
from  the  can. 

"You  eat  him?"  Sing  Pete  asked  with  a  grin. 

"No,"  she  replied,  "I  feed  it  to  broncho— to  Gold 
Dust  maverick.  Some  folks  sprinkle  salt  on  bird's 
tail  to  catch  him — I  put  sugar  on  horse's  tongue  to 
make  him  love  me — " 

"Lamblin'  Kid,  he  do  that.  Alice  time  him  gettee 
sugal  for  Clap'n  Jack!" 


"QUICK  WITH  A  VENGEANCE     "119 

"Feeds  'Clap'n  Jack'  sugar,  does  he?"  Carolyn 
June  said  pensively.  "Captain  Jack's  a  nice  little 
broncho,"  she  added,  "he  deserves  sugar."  She 
paused  a  moment.  "  'Lamblin'  Kid's'  a  funny  fel- 
low, don't  you  think  so,  Sing  Pete?"  she  finished 
idly. 

"Not  funny — him  dangelous!"  the  Chinaman  re- 
plied earnestly.  "He  gettee  velly  mad  'cause  I  puttee 
butter  in  can  so  cat  catchee  his  head  in  an'  go  lound 
an'  lound — buckee  like  a  bloncho — havee  lots  a  good 
time!  He  not  talkee  much,  Lamblin'  Kid  don't — 
just  dangelous — that's  all!" 

Carolyn  June  felt  sudden  interest. 

"When  did  he  get  mad  about  the  cat  ?"  she  asked 
quietly. 

"Alice  same  to-day — when  you  an'  Skinny  go 
'way.  Lamblin'  Kid  cussee  me  lot — tellee  me  not 
do  him  any  more.  Him  dangelous!  I  not  do  him 
next  time !"  Sing  Pete  explained  seriously. 

"You  are  wise,  Sing  Pete,"  Carolyn  June  laughed 
as  she  left  the  kitchen  by  the  back  door  and  started 
toward  the  corral  where  the  Gold  Dust  maverick 
was  restlessly  pacing  about.  "Don't  do  it  any  more ! 
'Lamblin'  Kid'  is  'dangelous' — dangerous  in  ways 
that  you  don't  understand!"  she  finished  softly,  her 
eyes  lit  with  a  strange  light  and  her  heart  elated  and 
beating  quickly  because  of  what  the  Chinese  cook 
had  told  her. 

The  outlaw  filly  leaped  to  the  far  side  of  the  cor- 
ral and  stood  trembling,  her  head  up  and  breath 


120  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

coming  in  whistling  snorts  of  defiance  and  fear,  as 
Carolyn  June  opened  the  gate  and  stepped  boldly 
inside.  Apparently  paying  no  attention  to  the  fright- 
ened horse,  the  girl  walked  to  the  center  of  the 
corral  and  facing  the  mare  leaned  her  back  against 
the  snubbing  post.  Both  stood  perfectly  still  while 
the  eyes  of  each  appraised  the  other. 

After  a  time  the  filly  seemed  to  relax  and  she 
slowly  lowered  her  head,  yet  watching,  alertly,  the 
motionless  figure  of  Carolyn  June.  The  girl  talked 
to  the  horse,  her  words  gentle,  her  voice  soothing 
and  low.  The  Gold  Dust  maverick  became  quieter 
still.  Presently  she  circled  the  corral,  trotting 
swiftly  and  crowding  closely  against  the  fence.  Car- 
olyn June  turned,  keeping  her  eyes  always  on  the 
broncho,  and  continued  the  quiet  pleading  of  her 
voice.  It  was  an  hour  before  the  filly  shyly  and 
cautiously  came  up  to  the  girl — before  curiosity 
mastered  her  fear.  Carolyn  June  held  out  her  hand 
and  the  outlaw  nosed  it  timidly,  ready  instantly  to 
spring  away.  A  lump  of  sugar  was  pressed  into  the 
Gold  Dust  maverick's  mouth — she  drew  back,  work- 
ing the  morsel  about  with  her  tongue  and  lips  and 
finally  spitting  it  out.  Several  times  this  was  re- 
peated. At  last  the  beautiful  creature  tasted  the 
sugar  and  greedily  ate  the  lumps,  permitting  Caro- 
lyn June  gently  to  stroke  the  velvety  muzzle.  Then 
the  girl's  hand  crept  higher  and  higher  on  the  horse's 
neck  and  after  a  little  an  arm  was  slipped  over  the 
filly's  neck. 


QUICK  WITH  A  VENGEANCE       121 

"You  darling!"  Carolyn  June  breathed  softly,  "I 
love  you!  I  wonder  what  the  Ramblin'  Kid  would 
say  if  he  knew  I  was  stealing  your  heart?"  she 
added  demurely  as  she  laid  her  face  against  the  silky 
mane  of  the  mare. 

She  remained  at  the  corral  until  the  afternoon 
was  nearly  gone.  The  poplars  along  the  front-yard 
fence  were  beginning  to  throw  their  shadows  across 
the  corral.  When  at  last  Carolyn  June  started  to 
return  to  the  house  the  filly  followed  her  to  the  gate 
of  the  corral  and  whinnied  a  little  protest  against 
her  going. 

"I  don't  believe  you  are  a  bit  mean,"  the  girl  said 
as  she  looked  back  affectionately  at  the  nervous, 
high-strung  animal;  "you  are  just  lonely  and  want 
to  be  loved — and  understood — that  is  all,  and  I 
doubt  if  you'd  buck  a  single  buck  if  I  rode  you  right 
this  minute !" 

As  she  reached  the  gate  the  Clagstone  "Six" 
glided  quietly  down  the  grade  from  the  bench  and 
a  moment  later  Ophelia  and  Parker  joined  Carolyn 
June  on  the  porch.  The  widow's  cheeks  were  glow- 
ing and  Parker  looked  embarrassed  and  rather  up- 
set. His  arms  were  full  of  bundles. 

"Have  a  good  time?"  Carolyn  June  greeted  them. 

"Fine,"  Ophelia  replied,  "spent  oodles  of  money 
shopping,  saw  the  minister's  wife,  talked  with  the 
editor  of  the  paper  and  we  are  going  to  organize  a 
Chapter — I  think  we  shaJl  call  it  'The  Amazons  of 
Eagle  Butte.'  " 


nastiiy, 
•;  "why 

e  morn^ 


122  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Great,"  Carolyn  June  laughed,  "you  are  a  hus- 
tler, Ophelia!  Uncle  Josiah  will  have  a  fit.  Does 
Parker  know?" 

"Yes,"  the  widow  answered,  her  eyes  twinkling, 
as  she  looked  at  the  sweating  foreman  of  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT.  "I  told  him  all  about  it  and  he  is  going 
to  give  us  his  moral  support." 

"Where  is  Skinny?"  Parker  interrupted  hastily, 
looking  more  uneasy  and  foolish  than  ever: 
ain't  he  here  ?" 

Carolyn  June  told  of  the  happenings  of  the  morn- 
ing. 

"My  dear,  my  dear!"  Ophelia  cried,  suddering 
when  she  heard  of  Carolyn  June's  narrow  escape 
from  the  quicksand.  "You  must  never  cross  that 
terrible  river  again!  It's  too  horrible  to  think 
about!" 

"It  was  just  'experience/ "  Carolyn  June  said 
lightly.  "I  don't  mind  it  a  bit  now  that  it  is  over. 
Of  course,"  she  added  seriously,  "I  feel  badly  about 
Old  Blue — and  losing  Parker's  saddle." 

"Don't  worry  about  the  saddle,  I  can  get  new 
riding  gear  lots  easier  than  Old  Heck  could  have 
got  another  niece !" 

"Carolyn  June  needs  a  saddle  of  her  own," 
Ophelia  suggested. 

"I  am  going  to  get  one;  and  then  Til  ride  the 
Gold  Dust  maverick !" 

"I  doubt  if  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  will  let  you  ride  the 
filly,"  Parker  said,  "he's  funny  that  way — " 


QUICK  WITH  A  VENGEANCE       123 

"I  think  he  will,"  Carolyn  June  interposed.  "I'll 
steal  her  if  no  other  way!" 

"Maybe  he  will,  but  it's  doubtful,"  Parker  con- 
tinued, "but  Old  Heck  is  aiming  to  get  you  a  saddle. 
He  spoke  about  it  this  morning  when  we  were  get- 
ting the  car  out  to  go  to  town — " 

"Dear  old  uncle,"  Carolyn  June  said  warmly,  "I 
love  him  already — don't  you,  Ophelia  ?" 

Parker  colored  and  looked  quickly,  with  a  worried 
expression  on  his  face,  at  the  widow.  She  flushed 
also. 

"That's  personal,  my  dear,"  she  answered,  "and 
rather  abrupt !" 

Parker  went  out  to  put  the  Clagstone  "Six"  in 
the  garage. 

"Carolyn  June,"  Ophelia  said  when  they  were 
alone,  "I  have  made  a  discovery — " 

"It  is?"  questioningly. 

"That  western  Texas  is  the  'quickest'  country  in 
the  world !"  the  widow  answered. 

"Please  explain,"  Carolyn  June  said,  "although," 
demurely,  with  certain  memories  fresh  in  her  mind, 
"I  fancy  I  can  almost  guess — " 

"Yesterday,"  Ophelia  continued  rather  breath- 
lessly, "we  arrived  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT;  last 
night  at  the  supper  table  I  met  Mr.  Parker  for  the 
first  time;  ten  minutes  later  he  kicked  me — acci- 
dentally, I  think — on  the  shins;  I  saw  him  again  at 
breakfast  this  morning;  to-day  we  drove  to  Eagle 
Butte  and  this  afternoon" — she  paused  and  then 


'124  THE  RAMBLJN'  KID 

with  a  quick,  nervous  laugh  finished — "he  asked  me 
to  marry  him !" 

"Good  lord,"  Carolyn  June  gasped,  "that  is — 
'pronto' — as  these  cowboys  say !  'Quick'  with  a  ven- 
geance! There  must  be  something  in  this  western 
air  that  makes  them  do  it !" 

"It  was  all  I  could  do  this  morning  to  keep  Skinny 
from — "  she  started  to  say,  then  shifted  again  to  the 
subject  of  Parker.  "Did  he  know  that  you  are — " 

"National     Organizer     for     the     'Movement/ ' 
Ophelia  filled  in.   "Yes,  I  had  already  confessed.   I 
told  him  as  we  were  driving  to  town — and  the  other 
' — the  shock — came  just  after  we  crossed  the  bridge 
when  we  were  returning  home !" 

"He  rs  a  bold,  dangerous  man!"  Carolyn  June 
exclaimed,  in  mock  seriousness,  "trying  to  get  ahead 
of  Uncle  Josiah!" 

"I  inferred  as  much,"  the  widow  explained;  "he 
told  me  that  to-morrow  would  be  your  uncle's  'day' 
— whatever  he  meant  by  that ;  the  next  he,  Mr.  Par- 
ker himself,  would  be  'around'  again.  'Unless  Old 
Heck  took  some  fool  notion  or  other;'  before  long 
he  would  be  away  on  the  beef  hunt  and  one  can 
never  tell  what  might  happen  while  one  is  gone  and, 
well,  that's  the  way  he  felt  about  it,  so  he  just 
said  it — " 

"And  you?" 

"Naturally  was  completely  surprised,  entirely 
non-committal,  and  made  no  definite  agreement!" 
Ophelia  laughed  softly. 


CHAPTER  IX 

OLD  HECK'S  STRATEGY 

IT  WAS  late  when  Old  Heck  and  the  cowboys 
returned  to  the  ranch.  The  runaway  cattle  had 
been  overtaken  on  the  sand-hills  beyond  the  North 
Springs  and  it  took  the  entire  afternoon  to  bunch 
them  and  work  the  restless  animals  back  to  the 
Quarter  Circle  KT,  into  the  big  pasture,  and  repair 
the  fence  so  it  was  safe  to  leave  them  for  the  night. 

Ophelia,  Carolyn  June  and  Parker  were  in  the 
front  room  when  Old  Heck  and  the  hungry  cow- 
boys clattered,  long  after  dark,  into  the  kitchen  for 
the  supper  Sing  Pete  had  kept  warm  for  them. 

After  the  meal  Skinny  went  into  the  room  where 
Parker  and  the  women  were.  Old  Heck  followed 
and  talked  for  a  few  moments  with  Parker  about 
the  affairs  of  the  ranch,  then  joined  the  cowboys 
at  the  bunk-house  where  they  had  gone  directly  after 
leaving  the  table.  On  Skinny's  bed  Parker  had 
tossed  a  bundle. 

"What  in  thunder  do  you  reckon  Skinny's  baen 
buying,  now  ?"  Chuck  questioned  as  he  picked  up  the 
package  and  examined  it  curiously.  "Blamed  if  it 
don't  feel  like  a  shirt." 

"I'll  bet  that's  what  it  is,"  Bert  said  with  a  laugh 
125 


126  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

as  Old  Heck  stepped  inside  the  door,  "the  darn' 
has  gone  and  got  him  a  white  shirt — " 

"Who  has?"  Old  Heck  asked,  hearing  only  the 
latter  part  of  Bert's  remark. 

"Skinny,"  Charley  answered  for  Bert,  "he's  fixing 
up  to  make  love  in  style — " 

"Aw,  the  blamed  idiot,"  Old  Heck  grunted,  then 
glancing  over  toward  Parker's  bed:  " — Did  you 
notice  whether  Parker  got  him  one,  too,  or  not  ?" 

Before  the  question  was  answered  Parker  and 
Skinny  appeared  at  the  bunk-house  door. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Chuck  said,  still  holding 
the  bundle  in  his  hand,  " — ain't  it  too  early  for  lov- 
ers to  bu'st  up  for  the  night?  Or  did  the  widow 
and  Carolyn  June  blow  out  the  lights  on  you — " 

"Forget  it,  you  danged  fool !"  Skinny  said  crossly. 
"Can't  you  ever  get  over  your  dog-goned  craziness  ? 
They  was  just  tired  and  went  to  bed.  Give  me  that 
package,  it's  mine  and  private!"  reaching  for  the 
bundle. 

Chuck,  with  a  laugh,  threw  it  at  him.  It  landed 
on  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  bunk  where  the  latter  was 
lying,  his  clothing  still  on,  his  eyes  staring  straight 
up  while  he  smoked  a  cigarette. 

"When  are  you  going  to  ride  the  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick ?"  Skinny  asked  as  he  picked  up  the  package. 

For  a  moment  the  Ramblin'  Kid  did  not  answer. 
Then,  without  changing  his  position,  replied : 

"I  don't  know  as  I'll  ever  ride  her.  Maybe  I'll 
turn  her  loose  again  on  th'  range." 


OLD  HECK'S  STRATEGY  127 

"What  did  you  catch  her  for?"  Bert  queried. 
"Don't  you  want  her  ?" 

"I  caught  her,  'cause  I  wanted  to,"  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  answered,  "but  that  ain't  no  sign  I  intend  to 
keep  her.  Hell,  what's  the,  use?"  he  finished  indif- 
ferently. 

"If  you  want  to  sell  her,"  Old  Heck  said,  "I'll 
buy  her." 

"She  ain't  for  sale,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  answered 
shortly,  "not  to  anybody." 

"She  would  be  a  thunderin'  sight  better  off  if 
she  was  used." 

"Would  she?"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  questioned  dully. 
"I  ain't  so  sure  about  that." 

"Of  course  she  would,"  Old  Heck  insisted,  "she'd 
be  fed  regular  and — " 

"An'  be  mauled  around  by  some  darned  human !" 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  interrupted  with  sudden  vehe- 
mence. "If  I  was  a  horse,"  he  continued,  speaking 
passionately  while  his  black  eyes  burned  with  the 
spirit  of  rebellion,  "I'd  rather  be  a  short-grass  cay- 
use  nippin'  th'  scatterin'  feed  on  th'  north  hills  an' 
be  free  to  snort  an'  raise  hell  when  I  blamed  please 
than  have  my  belly  stuffed  with  alfalfa  hay  three 
times  a  day  an'  have  to  gnaw  th'  iron  of  some 
damned  man's  bit  in  my  mouth  or  carry  his  saddle 
cm  my  back !" 

Silence  followed  the  outburst. 

Old  Heck  and  the  cowboys  knew  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  was  in  one  of  his  "moods,"  and  experience  had 


123  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

taught  them  that  at  such  times  argument  was  neither 
discreet  nor  safe.  The  thing  they  did  not  know  was 
that  his  heart  was  torn  by  memory  of  the  agony 
of  Old  Blue  in  the  quicksand  and  his  mind  tor- 
tured by  the  picture  of  dumb  suffering  a  bullet  from 
.Jris  own  gun  had,  that  morning,  mercifully  ended. 

After  a  time  he  spoke  again,  more  quietly  and 
'with  a  note  of  weariness  in  his  voice : 

"Oh,  well,  I  reckon  I'll  keep  th'  filly.  In  a  day 
of  two,  when  she  gets  rested  up  a  little,  I'll  ride 
her." 

"You  ought  to  break  her  for  Carolyn  June," 
Skinny  suggested. 

"Had  I?"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  said  with  a  queer 
laugh — it  was  just  the  thought  that  was  in  his  mind 
and  against  which  he  was  struggling.  "That's  a 
bright  idea!  Maybe  I'll  study  about  it  an'  take  a 
notion  to  do  it.  If  I  do  she  can  ride  th'  maverick 
when  you  an'  her  go  on  your  honeymoon — " 

"What's  a  honeymoon?"  Skinny  queried  inno- 
cently. 

"It's  what  two  people  take  when  they  first  get  mar- 
ried; go  off  somewhere  by  themselves — like  they 
was  locoed — to  find  out  how  bad  they  got  stung!" 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  laughingly  answered. 

"We'd  better  all  go  to  bed,"  Old  Heck  said;  "it's 
late  and  we  have  to  get  up  early  in  the  morning. 
Parker,  you  and  some  of  the  boys  will  have  to  go 
skin  them  dead  steers — we've  got  to  save  the  hides 
at  least." 


OLD  HECK'S  STRATEGY  129 

"Old  Heck  wants  to  go  to  sleep  so  he  can  dream 
about  the  widow/'  Chuck  snickered,  "it's  his  turn 
again  to-morrow  to  love  her — " 

"How  did  she  act  to-day,  Parker?"  Bert  broke  in; 
"was  she  pretty  affectionate?" 

"Aw,  shut  up !  Ain't  you  got  any  respect  for  any- 
thing—" 

"I'll  bet  he  proposed  to  her  and  she  throwed  him 
down,"  Chuck  hazarded,  not  realizing  how  nearly 
he  had  come  to  guessing  the  truth. 

Parker  looked  angrily  at  Chuck,  then  his  cheeks 
grew  red,  he  bent  over  and  began  tugging  at  his 
boots  in  an  effort  to  hide  the  tell-tale  confusion  in 
his  eyes. 

Old  Heck  furtively  studied  the  face  of  his  fore- 
man. 

"Or  else  she  confessed  to  bein,g  a  Bolshevik  or 
local-optionct  or  something  and  the  news  broke  his 
heart,"  Charley  volunteered,  joining  in  the  baiting 
of  the  range-boss. 

"She  didn't  neither  confess,"  Parker  denied  hast- 
ily, aggravated  into  a  reply,  "she  ain't  either  one  of 
them !  She's  an  'Organizer — '  " 

Dead  silence  greeted  this  sudden  announcement. 
Every  eye  was  turned  in  astonishment  on  Parker 
while  Old  Heck  and  the  boys  awaited  further  expla- 
nation. Parker  offered  no  additional  information. 

"She's  a  what?"  Old  Heck  finally  managed  to 
whisper,  leaning  toward  Parker,  while  a  look  of  fear 
and  incredulity  spread  or-er  his  face. 


130  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Parker  noticed  the  anguish  in  Old  Heck's  eyes 
and  a  sudden  new  look  of  cunning  came  into  his 
own. 

"An  'Organizer*  I  said,"  he  repeated  impressively, 
"she's  an  'Organizer'  for  some  kind  of  'Movement' 
or  other — " 

"A  dis-organizer,  you'd  better  say!"  Chuck 
laughed  uncertainly,  "judging  from  the  way  she's 
got  you  and  Old  Heck  stampeding  already !" 

"Great  guns!"  Old  Heck  half  groaned,  "what — 
what  sort  of  a — a — 'Movement'  did  she  say  it  was, 
anyhow  ?" 

"Swiss,  probably!"  came  in  a  chuckling  under- 
tone from  the  direction  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  bed. 
"Hell,  what's  the  difference?" 

"She  said  it  was  connected  someway  with  'femi- 
nine obligations  and  woman's  opportunity,'  "  Par- 
ker answered,  ignoring  the  frivolous  interruptions. 

"I  know  what  she  is!"  Charley  exclaimed,  " — it's 
just  what  I  expected!  She's  one  of  these  self- 
starting  female  suffragettes !  That's  what  she  is.  I 
knowed  she  was  too  gentle  acting  to  be  harmless!" 

"She  just  had  to  break  loose  sooner  or  later," 
Bert  said  in  an  awed  voice. 

"My  Gawd!"  Old  Heck  murmured  hopelessly. 
"Holy  gosh  a'mighty !" 

The  owner  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  was  really 
shocked  and  worried.  He  had  surrendered  quickly 
to  his  first  impression  concerning  the  widow.  The 
original  meeting  at  Eagle  Butte,  when  she  and  Caro- 


OLD  HECK'S  STRATEGY  131 

lyn  June  appeared  as  visions  of  feminine  loveliness, 
as  contrasted  with  the  homely  cook  and  her  daugh- 
ter whom  he  and  Skinny  had  mistaken  for,  and 
feared  were,  the  Quarter  Circle  KT's  prospective 
guests,  had  caused  a  psychic  effect  on  his  feelings 
toward  Ophelia.  The  sense  of  relief  that  came 
when  he  found  that  the  cook  was  not  Ophelia,  to- 
gether with  the  widow's  unexpected  graciousness, 
had  instantly  disarmed  his  suspicions  and,  meta- 
phorically speaking,  hurled  his  heart  into  her  lap. 
He  had  found  the  widow  charming,  interesting, 
very  feminine,  and  already  dreams  had  shaped 
themselves  in  his  mind.  The  sudden  revelation  that 
Parker  had  made  brought  tremendous  disappoint- 
ment. Ophelia  had  not  shown  the  least  indication 
of  obnoxious  strong-mindedness  or  that  disagreeable 
intellectuality  which  Old  Heck  firmly  believed  was 
a  necessary  attribute  of  all  women  who  participated 
in  politics  or  "movements." 

Ophelia  was  an  "Organizer" !  It  was  unbeliev- 
able !  The  thought  gave  him  a  sickening  feeling  at 
the  pit  of  his  stomach  and  actually  made  his  head 
ache. 

Old  Heck's  first  impulse,  when  Parker  made  the 
startling  announcement,  was  to  assert  his  authority 
as  boss  of  the  outfit  and  annul  the  every-other-day 
arrangement  whereby  he  and  his  foreman  were  to 
share  and  share  alike  in  the  widow's  society.  He 
would  let  Parker  do  it  all — have  her  all  of  the  time ! 
He  wouldn't  take  any  chances !  On  second  thought 


132  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

he  decided  to  wait  at  least  another  day.  Besides, 
it  was  against  his  principles,  contrary  to  the  ethics 
of  the  range,  to  back  up  on  a  bargain  and  he  never 
asked  an  employee  to  do  a  thing  he  hadn't  the 
courage  to  do  himself.  He  would  stick  it  out,  come 
what  may,  and  see  the  thing  through  to  a  finish. 
However,  there  was  still  a  means  of  escape.  If 
Ophelia  developed  any  really  serious  suffragette 
tendencies  during  the  next  day  or  two  he  would  go 
on  the  beef  hunt  himself  and  let  Parker  remain  at 
the  ranch! 

When  finally  he  went  to  sleep  Ophelia  was  still 
on  his  mind.  The  first  thought  that  came  to  him 
when  he  awakened  the  next  morning  was  the  sick- 
ening news  Parker  had  brought. 

Old  Heck  and  the  cowboys  were  silent  and  had 
about  them  an  air  of  depression  when  they  filed  into 
the  kitchen  for  breakfast. 

Each  cast  furtive,  curious  glances  at  Ophelia.  The 
information  that  she  was  an  "Organizer" — presum- 
ably for  a  "Movement"  involving  woman's  political 
rights — caused  them  to  view  her  with  a  kind  of 
reverential  awe  and  fear.  The  widow  and  Carolyn 
June,  apparently,  were  wholly  unconscious  of  the 
thoughts  in  the  minds  of  the  men.  Both  women 
were  as  innocent-looking  and  attractive  as  ever — 
matching  with  their  early  morning  freshness  the 
bowl  of  roses  Carolyn  June,  before  the  call  to  break- 
fast, had  gathered  and  placed  on  the  table. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  sat  at  the  right  of  Carolyn 


OLD  HECK'S  STRATEGY  133 

June.  It  was  the  first  time  they  had  met  at  the 
table.  He  said  nothing  and  seemingly  was  lost  in 
thought.  When  they  had  entered  the  kitchen  Caro- 
lyn June  and  he  had  spoken  and  for  a  moment  he 
looked  into  her  eyes  with  an  expression  that  caused 
her  own  to  drop  and  the  warm  blood  to  rush  over 
her  throat  and  face.  She  had  felt  that  same  sensa- 
tion of  "soul-nakedness"  she  experienced  when  she 
looked  into  his  eyes  that  first  time  when  she  was  at 
the  circular  corral  and  he  was  lying  under  the  shed. 
Neither  spoke  of  the  incidents  of  the  previous  day. 

The  other  cowboys  and  Old  Heck  studied  Ophelia 
with  a  sort  of  fascination,  casting  shy  upward 
glances  at  her  from  over  their  plates. 

Parker  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid  only,  were  at  ease 
and  undisturbed. 

"You  wouldn't  think  she  was  one  by  looking  at 
her,  would  you?"  Chuck  said  in  an  undertone  to 
Charley. 

"Some  of  them's  so  blamed  slick  they  can't  hide 
it." 

"I  reckon  that's  right,"  Chuck  whispered  back, 
"it's  an  awful  jolt  to  Old  Heck,  ain't  it?" 

"Yes,  he's  taking  it  pretty  hard,"  Charley  mum- 
bled. 

"Her  forehead  does  bulge  out  a  good  deal  in 
front,  when  you  come  to  look  at  it,  don't  it  ?"  Chuck 
observed  under  his  breath. 

"Quite  £  lot,"  Charley  answered  in  the  same  tone ; 
"that's  om  indication!" 


134  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID" 

Parker  gazed  at  the  widow  with  an  expression 
undeniably  adoring.  Old  Heck  saw  it  and  straight- 
ened up  with  a  look  of  sudden  resolution  on  his 
face.  If  Parker  wasn't  afraid  of  Ophelia,  by  golly, 
he  wouldn't  be !  The  widow  had  returned  the  fore- 
man's look  with  understanding,  while  more  than  a 
trace  of  tenderness  and  sympathy  was  registered  in 
her  eyes. 

"To-morrow  is  Sunday,'*  Old  Heck  announced 
suddenly  with  startling  distinctness,  "and  we'll  get 
things  in  shape  to  begin  the  beef  round-up  on  Mon- 
day!" 

There  was  immediate  interest. 

"I'll  be  darned,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  murmured 
half  audibly,  "Old  Heck  is  goin'  to  'Uriah'  Parker!" 

"Huh?"  Skinny  queried  across  the  table. 

"Nothin',"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  answered  with  a 
laugh,  "I  was  just  reminded  of  somethin'  I  read  in 
a  book  one  time — " 

Carolyn  June  caught  the  subtle  reference  to  the 
Bible  story  of  King  David's  unfortunate  romance 
with  another  man's  "woman"  and  chuckled. 

"Ain't  you  starting  the  beef  hunt  too  early?" 
Charley  asked. 

"I  don't  know  as  I  am,"  Old  Heck  answered  dog- 
gedly. 

"Aw,  that'll  put  us  right  in  the  middle  of  it  on  the 
Fourth  of  July  when  the  Rodeo  is  going  on  in 
Eagle  Butte— "  Bert  began. 

"And  I  ain't  going  to  miss  that,  either,"  Chuck 


OLD  HECK'S  STRATEGY  135 

interrupted,  "that  Y-Bar  outfit  over  on  the  Vermejo 
took  everything  in  the  two-mile  sweepstakes  last 
year  and  they've  been  bragging  about  it  ever  since. 
They  think  that  Thunderbolt  horse  of  theirs  can't 
be  beat.  I  was  going  to  put  Silver  Tip  in  this  year. 
He  can  put  that  black  in  second  place — " 

"No,  he  can't,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  remarked 
quietly,  " — you'd  lose  your  money.  There's  only 
one  animal  on  th'  Kiowa  range  that  can  outrun  that 
Vermejo  horse." 

"What  animal  is  that?"  Charley  asked. 

"She's  in  th'  circular  corral,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
answered  laconically. 

"The  Gold  Dust  maverick?"  Bert  questioned. 

"That's  the  one  I  mean,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  re- 
plied in  a  low  voice,  "for  two  miles — or  five — there 
ain't  nothin'  in  western  Texas,  or  Mexico  either, 
that  can  catch  her." 

"Why  don't  you  take  her  in  when  the  Rodeo  is 
on  and  run  her  in  the  sweepstakes  then?"  Chuck 
asked  eagerly.  "I  ain't  caring  what  Kiowa  horse  gets 
the  money  just  so  that  Y-Bar  outfit  is  taken  down 
a  notch  or  two.  Ever  since  they  got  that  Thunder- 
bolt horse  and  beat  Old  Heck's  Quicksilver  with 
him  they've  been  crowing  over  the  Quarter  Circle 
KT  and  I'm  getting  plumb  sick  of  it — " 

"Old  Heck  lost  three  thousand  dollars  on  that 
race!"  Bert  interrupted  rather  triumphantly. 

"I  didn't  neither,"  Old  Heck  corrected  sullenly, 
"it  was  only  twenty-five  hundred!" 


136  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Well,  that  Vermejo  crowd  has  got  a  hundred 
of  mine,"  Chuck  said  vindictively,  "but  I  don't  give 
a  darn  for  that — I'd  be  willing  to  lose  twice  that 
much  again  just  to  set  that  Thunderbolt  horse  of 
theirs  back  in  second  place !" 

"Why  don't  you  run  the  outlaw  filly?"  Charley 
asked  coaxingly  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 

"Yes,  go  on  and  put  her  in,"  Skinny  urged, 
" — you  ought  to !" 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  remained  silent,  seemingly  in-; 
different  to  the  teasing  of  the  others. 

Carolyn  June  leaned  over  and  said,  in  a  voice 
audible  only  to  him,  while  her  eyes  grew  mellow 
with  a  look  that  tested  his  composure  to  the  utter- 
most but  which  wrung  no  sign  from  him : 

"Please,  race  the  maverick — I — want  you  to — • 
Ramblin'  Kid!" 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  used  his  name  in 
speaking  directly  to  him  and  the  tone  in  which  it 
was  spoken  made  him  tremble  in  spite  of  himself. 
For  a  moment  he  returned  her  gaze.  Her  words 
and  manner  were  so  different  that  by  their  very 
difference  they  reminded  him  of  what  she  had  called 
him  yesterday — "an  ignorant,  savage,  stupid  brute" 
— when  he  had  refused  to  interfere  with  the  cat 
when  its  head  was  caught  in  the  can.  He  started  to 
make  a  cynical  reply.  Then  he  remembered  her 
sympathy  for  Old  Blue,  her  apology  later  for  the 
harsh  words — anyhow  he  knew  or  felt  in  his  heart 
they  were  true — and  suddenly  he  seemed  to  see  the 


OLD  HECK'S  STRATEGY  137 

pink  satin  garter  he  still  carried  in  his  pocket.  The 
look  that  came  into  his  eyes  made  Carolyn  June 
lower  her  own.  He  smiled  a  whimsical  but  hopeless 
smile,  as,  replying  apparently  to  the  pleading  of 
Charley  and  Skinny,  he  said,  softly,  the  single  word: 

"Maybe!" 

Old  Heck  had  forgotten  the  annual  Rodeo  held 
in  Eagle  Butte,  for  some  days  each  summer,  around 
the  Fourth  of  July.  His  sudden  determination  and 
eagerness  to  have  the  beef  round-up  begin  earlier 
than  usual  in  order  to  get  Parker  away  from  the 
widow  had  driven  all  else  but  that  one  idea  from 
his  mind.  The  protests  reminded  him  of  his  over- 
sight. He  had  not  intended  to  deprive  the  cowboys 
of  the  opportunity  to  enjoy  the  one  big  event  hap- 
pening yearly  in  the  Kiowa  country  and  which  tem- 
porarily turned  Eagle  Butte,  for  a  few  days  each 
summer,  into  a  seething  metropolis  of  care- free  hu- 
manity. 

"I  think  it's  a  darned  shame  to  spring  the  beef 
hunt  so  it  will  interfere  with  the  Rodeo,"  Bert  grum- 
bled, " — and  us  have  to  be  out  on  the  hills  wran- 
gling steers  while  the  celebration  is  going  on !" 

"I'm  not  goin'  to  be  out  on  th'  hills  then,"  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  said  quietly  but  with  unchangeable 
finality. 

"You  can  all  go  to  the  Rodeo,"  Old  Heck  inter- 
posed, not  feeling  just  right  in  his  conscience  about 
sending  Parker  away  in  advance  of  the  time  ex- 
pected, and  wishing  to  make  amends,  " — Parker  and 


138  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

all  of  you.  You  can  'break'  the  round-up  for  a  few 
days  during  the  Rodeo  and  what  cattle  you've  got 
gathered  by  then  can  be  turned  into  the  big  pasture 
and  held  there  till  it's  over.  That'll  let  you  all 
get  into  Eagle  Butte  for  the  Fourth — I'd  like  to  see 
that  blamed  Thunderbolt  horse  beat  myself!  But 
we'll  start  the  beef  hunt  Monday  the  way  I  said  in 
the  first  place — " 

"Who's  going  to  cook,  this  year,  on  the  round- 
up?" Charley  queried.  "You  can't  take  the  Chink 
from  here  this  time,  can  you?" 

"I  reckon  Sing  Pete'll  have  to  go  along  as  usual," 
Old  Heck  answered;  "it'll  make  it  a  little  unhandy 
at  the  ranch,  but — " 

"Ophelia  and  I  can  'batch'  while  you  are  gone," 
Carolyn  June  suggested.  "We  won't  mind  being 
alone  and  it  will  be  fun  to  cook  our  own  meals." 

"We  will  enjoy  it,"  Ophelia  added  agreeably. 

"You  ain't  going  to  be  alone,"  Old  Heck  said; 
"Skinny  and  me  will  be  here.  When  it  comes  to  the 
cooking  maybe  between  the  four  of  us  we  can  get 
along  some  way!" 

"Well,  if  the  round-up's  got  to  start  Monday," 
Parker  declared  sullenly  as  they  left  the  table,  "I'll 
have  to  go  down  to  town  again  to-day  and  get  me 
a  new  saddle.  Mine  was  on  Old  Blue." 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  Old  Heck  said  in  a  conciliatory 
way.  "Charley  and  the  other  boys  can  be  working 
on  them  dead  steers  till  we  get  back.  We'll  go  in 
the  car  and  ought  to  make  the  round-trip  by  noon." 


FIXING  FIXERS 

THE  widow  and  Carolyn  June  were  alone  at  the 
house.  Old  Heck  and  Parker  went  immediately 
from  the  breakfast  table  to  the  garage  to  get  the  car 
out  to  go  to  Eagle  Butte.  The  cowboys  were  at  the 
barn  preparing  to  begin  the  day's  work.  Skinny  jjad 
excused  himself,  ostensibly  to  attend  to  some  ranch 
chores,  but  in  reality  to  get  away  to  the  bunk-house 
and  "fix  up"  for  the  day's  courtship  of  Carolyn  June. 
He  planned,  when  the  cowboys  were  gone,  to  put  on 
the  white  shirt  Parker  brought,  yesterday,  from 
Eagle  Butte. 

"Ophelia,"  Carolyn  June  said  mysteriously  as  they 
stepped  out  on  the  front  porch  and  filled  their  lungs 
with  the  clean  air  of  the  morning,  "you  made  a  'dis- 
covery' yesterday,  I  believe?"  pausing  question- 
ingly. 

"Yes,"  the  widow  smiled,  recalling  their  conversa- 
tion relative  to  Parker's  abrupt  proposal  of  marriage. 

"To-day,"  Carolyn  June  continued  impressively, 
"it  is  my  turn — I  have  made  one !" 

"And  it  is?" 

"You  and  I  have  been  'framed !'  "  was  the  answer 
139 


140  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

spoken  solemnly  yet  scarcely  louder  than  a  whisper, 
while  the  brown  eyes  of  Carolyn  June  sparkled  with 
a  mixture  of  suppressed  anger,  merriment  and  indig- 
nation. 

"Framed?"  the  widow  repeated  inquiringly,  "just 
what  does  'framed'  mean,  my  dear?" 

"Framed  means,"  Carolyn  June  replied  wisely, 
"  'tricked/  'jobbed,'  'jinxed/  'fixed/  or  whatever  it 
is  people  do  to  people  when  they  scheme  to  do  some- 
thing to  them  without  the  ones  to  whom  they  are 
doing  it  knowing  how  it  is  done !" 

"Exceedingly  lucid,  my  love,"  the  widow  laughed, 
"bftt  you  are  so  agonizingly  fond  of  suspense — " 

"Come  inside,"  Carolyn  June  said  as  she  led  the 
way  into  the  house,  "and  in  a  dark  corner — no, 
that  would  be  too  near  to  the  walls  and  their  prover- 
bial 'ears/  in  the  center  of  the  room  is  better — I  will 
expose  the  whole  diabolical  plot !" 

At  the  end  of  the  reading  table  they  stopped  and 
faced  each  other. 

"And  now  ?"  Ophelia  said,  expectantly. 

"And  now,"  Carolyn  June  repeated,  her  voice 
low  and  carefully  guarded.  "Listen :  Before  Ophelia 
Cobb  and  Carolyn  June  Dixon  ever  arrived  at  this 
Quarter  Circle  KT  their  'lovers'  were  already  picked 
out  for  them — officially  chosen,  delegated,  ap- 
pointed, foreordained  and  everything!  The  'ar- 
rangements' had  all  been  made — " 

"I  don't  understand,"  the  widow  said,  bewildered 
by  the  rapid  flow  of  legal-sounding  words. 


FIXING  FIXERS  141 

"Nor  did  I  at  first,"  Carolyn  June  went  on,  "but 
I  have  figured  it  all  out!  I  have  'discovered'  what 
all  this  mysterious  hinting  about  'arrangements,' 
'the  agreement/  'Old  Heck's  day,'  'Parker's  time,' 
'Skinny's  job,'  and  so  forth  means!  I  have  studied 
it  out.  Why  is  Skinny  Rawlins  thrown  into  my  lap 
as  my  'regular'  lover?  It's  his  'job' — that  is  why! 
And  why  the  day-and-day-about  courting  of  your- 
self by  Uncle  Josiah  and  Parker?  It  is  the  'agree- 
ment'— the  one  is  to  have  you  one  day  and  the  other 
the  next!  Before  we  came  some  such  arrangement 
was  fixed  up.  I  am  sure  of  it — " 

"Impossible,"  Ophelia  protested,  "preposterous!"1 

"Outrageous !"  Carolyn  June  added  vehemently, 
"but  truth  just  the  same !  To  start  with  they  didn't 
want  us  to  come.  That  telegram  lying  about  them 
all  having  the  smallpox  proved  as  much.  We  were, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  considered  'afflictions/ 
Why,  I  don't  know.  I  guess  they  thought  we  were 
a  pair  of  female  vampires  or  something  and  had  to 
be  disposed  of  in  advance  to  prevent  our  stirring 
things  up  and  causing  a  lot  of  murders  or  suicides  or 
duels  on  the  Quarter  Circle  KT !" 

"I  can't  believe  it,"  Ophelia  muttered  as  if 
stunned.  "Why,  that  would  be  'dealing'  with  us 
just  as  though  we  were  cattle !" 

"That's  it !"  Carolyn  June  exclaimed  vindictively, 
her  anger  for  the  moment  getting  the  better  of  her 
sense  of  the  ridiculous,  "they  'dealt'  in  us!  More 
than  likely  they  played  poker  to  decide  how  to  di- 


142  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

vide  us  up — to  see  who  should  love  you  and  which 
should  love  me !  As  if  the  heart  of  a  woman  can  be 
made  to  run  in  a  groove  cut  to  order  by  the  hand  of 
any  masculine — insect !"  she  finished,  thoughtless  of 
the  incongruous  metaphor. 

"Then  Skinny  and  your  Uncle  Josiah,"  the  widow 
murmured,  "and  Parker — are — are — pretending?" 

"No,"  Carolyn  June  answered,  "they  started  out 
'pretending,'  but  they've  stepped  into  their  own 
trap!  They  are  painfully  serious  now — they  are 
'intending !'  " 

"What  shall  we  do  about  it?"  Ophelia  asked  help- 
lessly. 

"We  ought  to  assassinate  them!"  Carolyn  June 
snapped,  then  laughed  as  the  absurdity  of  the  situa- 
tion dawned  upon  her  and  her  sense  of  humor  over- 
came the  moment  of  anger  and  indignation.  "I  have 
it — I've  got  it!  We  will  'vamp'  them  in  dead  ear- 
nest! We'll  fix  the  'fixers,'  we'll  frame  the  'fram- 
ers' !" 

"But  how?"  doubtfully. 

"From  now  on,"  Carolyn  June  replied  decisively, 
"I  am  going  to  flirt,  individually  and  collectively— 
desperately  and  wickedly — with  the  whole  male' 
population  of  this  ranch!  We'll  show  them  what 
premeditated  love-making  really  is !  When  it  comes 
to  Uncle  Josiah  and,  well,  possibly  Parker,  you  will 
have  to  take  care  of  that  giddy  pair  yourself  and, 
incidentally,  you  might  work  some  on  Charley  Saun- 
ders,"  mentioning  the  oldest  of  the  cowboys.  "I'll 


FIXING  FIXERS  143 

just  flicker  an  eyelid  occasionally  at  Parker,  unless 
you  object?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  Ophelia  answered,  blushing  a 
trifle. 

"Well,  then,  we  will  make  it  a  free-for-all,"  Caro- 
lyn June  said,  "and — " 

"How  about  the  Ramblin'  Kid?"  the  widow  in- 
terrupted, "do  you  think  he  is  one  of  the  conspira- 
tors— is  in  on  the — the — 'frame-up?'  Is  he  also  to 
be  a  'victim'  ?" 

Carolyn  June  colored  the  least  bit,  paused  a  mo- 
ment before  she  replied,  then  said  rather  stiffly : 

"He — yes,  he  is  probably  having  more  fun  watch- 
ing us  being  'officially'  made  love  to  than  any  other 
one  of  the  entire  bunch.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  will  have 
to  take  his  medicine  along  with  the  rest!  Every 
man-thing  on  the  Quarter  Circle  KT — eliminating 
Sing  Pete  from  that  classification — is  my  meat!" 

"When  does  the  slaughter  begin?"  Ophelia 
laughed. 

"Right  now!"  Carolyn  June  answered.  "War  is 
declared — " 

She  stopped  suddenly  as  a  step  sounded  on  the 
porch  and  a  moment  later  Skinny  entered  the  room. 
He  was  painfully  "dressed  up."  The  instant  Old 
Heck  and  Parker,  in  the  Clagstone  "Six,"  started 
for  Eagle  Butte  and  the  cowboys  disappeared  down 
the  larte  in  the  direction  of  the  big  pasture,  Skinny 
struggled  into  the  white  shirt.  He  planned  to  try 
its  effect  on  Carolyn  June  while  the  others  were 


144  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

away.  If  it  did  not  produce  results  he  would  slip 
back  to  the  bunk-house  before  they  returned  and 
change  again  to  his  normal  dress. 

When  Skinny  stepped  into  the  room  he  was  fully 
conscious  of  his  unusual  appearance.  The  morning 
was  warm  and  he  had  not  put  on  a  coat.  The  shirt 
billowed  over  his  shoulders,  arms  and  chest  in  a 
snowy  cloud.  It  seemed  impossible  to  Skinny  that 
anything  in  all  the  world  could  be  so  vividly,  per- 
sistently white  as  the  cloth  that  literally  enveloped 
the  upper  half  of  his  body.  It  actually  gleamed. 
The  sleeves  of  the  shirt  were  too  long.  A  pair  of 
sky-blue,  rosette- fastened,  satin  ribbon  sleeve-hold- 
ers above  his  elbows  kept  the  cuffs  from  slipping 
over  his  hands.  Parker  had  been  unable  to  get  the 
purple  necktie  and  had  brought,  instead,  one  that 
was  a  solid  Shamrock  green.  Skinny  swore  when  he 
saw  the  tie,  but  decided  to  wear  it  anyhow.  Parker 
had  explained  by  saying  he  had  forgotten  the  er- 
rand until  he  was  starting  from  town  and  then 
stepped  into  Old  Leon's — a  cheap  general  store  in 
Eagle  Butte — and  purchased  the  outfit  from  the 
Jew.  That  accounted  also  for  the  surplus  length  of 
sleeve — the  shirt  was  a  size  and  a  half  larger  than 
Skinny  had  ordered  and  for  which  Parker  declared 
positively  he  had  asked.  Eternal  hatred  for  all  He- 
brews was  born  in  Skinny's  heart  the  moment  he 
saw  the  layout.  But,  well,  it  was  there ;  he  was  anx- 
ious to  see  if  a  white  shirt  would  have  any  effect, 
and  he  would  wear  it  anyway. 


FIXING  FIXERS  145 

Skinny  knew  instantly  that  he  made  an  impression 
on  Carolyn  June. 

She  looked  at  him  once  and  was  speechless ! 

"By  gosh,"  he  said  to  himself,  "Chuck  was  right ! 
It  sure  does  beat  hell  how  clothes  affect  a  woman !" 

Carolyn  June,  unquestionably,  was  overcome.  The 
surprise  had  been  too  much  for  her.  He  had 
knocked  her  cold!  The  shirt  had  done  the  work! 
She  bit  nervously  at  the  nail  of  her  thumb,  pressed 
desperately  against  her  teeth.  Her  whole  body  trem- 
bled. Her  face  flamed  scarlet.  Skinny  saw  her  agi- 
tation and  resolved  at  that  moment  that  he  would 
never  again  be  without  a  white  shirt ! 

Ophelia  also  was  visibly  affected.  The  widow 
gave  one  look  at  Skinny,  glanced  quickly  at  Carolyn 
June,  then,  with  her  hands  clasped  tightly  against 
her  breast,  she  leaned  weakly  against  the  table  and 
chewed  at  her  underlip.  .  She  started  to  speak  and 
stopped. 

"Well,  I — I — got  back!"  Skinny  said,  breaking 
the  spell  while  he  grinned  somewhat  sheepishly  and 
yet  with  an  air  of  complete  satisfaction. 

"I — I — see  you — did!"  Carolyn  June  choked 
hysterically. 

"I  was  gone  longer  than  I  aimed  to  be,"  Skinny 
continued,  rapidly  gaining  confidence  as  he  saw  the 
confusion  of  the  women;  "after  I  got  the  chores 
done  I  concluded  to  fix  up  a  little.  This  is  the  first 
time  I  ever  wore  this  shirt,"  he  went  on,  feeling 
that  a  bit  of  explanation  was  entirely  proper  and 


146  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

would  probably  help  in  restoring  the  composure  of 
Carolyn  June  and  the  widow.  "Parker  just  brought 
it  out  yesterday  and  it  was  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to 
make  the  collar  work  right.  It  seemed  like  it  was 
pretty  stiff  or  something.  Generally  speaking  the 
whole  outfit's  bigger  than  it  really  ought  to  be,  but 
maybe  it'll  shrink  up  some  when  it's  washed,"  he 
finished  in  a  casual  matter-of-fact  way. 

"It — it — is  wonderful!"  Carolyn  June  stam- 
mered, "it  is — I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  one  that 
was — was — whiter — " 

"It  looked  that  way  to  me,"  Skinny  interrupted 
as  if  glad  some  one  else  had  noticed  a  peculiarity  of 
the  garment  that  already  had  troubled  him  some- 
what, "I  thought  it  was  uncommonly  white !" 

"Perhaps  it  just  seems  that  way  because  we  are 
not  used  to  it,"  Ophelia  suggested  sympathetically. 

"That's  it!"  Carolyn  June  exclaimed  feverishly, 
"it  is  because  we  are  not  used  to  it — it  will  be  per- 
fectly all  right  when  we  have  looked  at  it  a  little 
more !" 

Skinny  decided  he  would  risk  the  gauntlet  of  com- 
ment from  Parker,  Old  Heck  and  the  cowboys  and 
wear  the  shirt  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Carolyn  June  was  really  sorry  for  Skinny,  but — 
she  needed  air — she  felt  she  must  have  it. 

"Please,"  she  cried  suddenly  and  with  an  effort, 
"excuse  me!  I — I — have  something  I  wish  to  do! 
You,"  speaking  to  Skinny,  "and  Ophelia  stay  here 
and  visit  each  other  a  while !" 


FIXING  FIXERS  147 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer  she  stepped 
quickly  into  the  kitchen,  asked  Sing  Pete  for  a  hand- 
ful of  sugar  and  hurried  out  to  the  circular  corral. 

"Oh,  Skinny,  Skinny,  you  are  so  funny,"  she 
laughed  aloud  as  she  went  through  the  back-yard 
gate.  "It  breaks  my  heart  to  break  your  heart — but 
you  are  one  of  the  'fixers'  and  you've  got  to  be 
'fixed.'  " 

The  Gold  Dust  maverick  at  first  was  shy  when 
Carolyn  June  opened  the  gate  and  entered  the  cor- 
ral. After  a  few  moments  she  recognized  the  girl 
and  was  soon  eating  the  sugar  from  the  hand  of 
Carolyn  June.  Before  the  supply  was  exhausted  the 
friendship  and  confidence  of  the  two,  begun  yester- 
day, was  firmly  reestablished.  The  maverick  al- 
lowed Carolyn  June  to  swing  her  weight  from  the 
glossy  withers,  to  clasp  her  arms  tightly  about  the 
trim,  clean-built  neck,  and  when,  after  an  hour,  the 
girl  started  toward  the  house,  the  outlaw  mare  pro- 
tested so  eagerly  against  being  left  alone  that  she 
turned  back  to  the  corral  and  leaning  against  the 
fence  stroked  the  soft  muzzle  thrust  between  the 
bars. 

Carolyn  June  was  cooing  endearing  terms  to  the 
filly  and  playing  with  the  quivering  underlip  when 
she  heard  a  horse  galloping  swiftly  up  the  lane  and 
past  the  barn.  Instinctively  she  stepped  back  and 
turned  just  as  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  riding  Captain 
Jack,  wheeled  around  the  end  of  the  shed  near  the 
corral. 


148  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

His  sudden  appearance  surprised  her.  She  had 
thought  he  was  with  the  cowboys  over  at  the  upland 
pasture  helping  skin  the  steers  killed  by  the  light- 
ning. 

When  they  left  the  ranch  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had 
ridden  away  with  Charley  and  the  others,  but  not 
with  any  intention  of  going  to  the  big  pasture. 
Where  the  road  turned  toward  the  lower  ford  he 
held  Captain  Jack  to  the  left. 

"Ain't  you  going  with  us,"  Charley  Saunders 
asked,  "and  help  skin  them  steers  ?" 

"No,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  replied  quietly.  "I  ain't. 
I've  got  something  else  to  do.  Anyhow,  I  ain't  a 
butcher — I  work  with  live  cattle,  not  dead  ones!" 
he  concluded  as  Captain  Jack  continued  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  upper  crossing. 

"He's  the  independentest  darn'  cuss  I  ever  saw !" 
Charley  remarked  to  his  companions  as  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid  disappeared.  "It's  a  wonder  Old  Heck 
don't  fire  him." 

"He  can't,"  Bert  laughed.  "Th'  Ramblin'  Kid 
don't  stay  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  by  the  grace  of 
Old  Heck,  but  by  the  choice  of  th'  Ramblin'  Kid ! 
Anyhow,  he's  too  good  with  horses — "  His  voice 
trailed  away  to  a  low  mutter  as  they  turned  in 
among  the  willows  and  cottonwood  trees  along  the 
bank  of  the  Cimarron. 

At  the  upper  crossing  on  almost  the  same  spot 
where  he  had  lifted  Carolyn  June  from  the  quick- 
sand to  the  solid  ground  of  the  meadow  land,  the 


FIXING  FIXERS  149 

Kamblin*  Kid  stopped  Captain  Jack.  He  looked  out 
over  the  placid,  unbroken  surface  of  the  sand-bar 
and  saw  the  end  of  the  broken  rope  coiled  loosely 
where  Old  Blue  had  been  drawn  under.  A  few 
yards  away  the  white  felt  hat  Carolyn  June  had 
tossed  to  one  side,  to  be  a  mute  and  pathetic  mes- 
senger of  her  fate,  when  she  thought  death  was  cer- 
tain, still  rested  on  the  smooth  surface  of  the  sand. 
It  was  to  get  the  hat  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had  come 
again  to  the  scene  of  yesterday's  tragedy.  He  had 
seen  it  lying  there  when  Carolyn  June  and  he  rode 
away  on  Captain  Jack  and  thought  then  of  trying 
to  get  it,  but  the  part  of  the  broken  rope  attached 
to  his  saddle  was  too  short  to  reach  it  and  it  was 
impossible  to  secure  it  in  any  other  way.  Chuck 
had  returned  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  rope  to  him  yester- 
day when  they  were  after  the  runaway  steers  and 
it  was  now  on  his  saddle.  He  lightly  tossed  the 
noose  so  that  it  fell  circling  the  object  he  sought. 
Gently  flicking  the  rope  toward  him  he  tightened 
the  loop  about  the  crown  of  the  hat  and  drew  it  to 
the  edge  of  the  quicksand.  He  picked  up  the  hat, 
looked  curiously  at  it,  remounted  Captain  Jack, 
paused  a  moment  and  gazed  at  the  treacherous  sur- 
face beneath  which  the  body  of  Old  Blue  was  hid- 
den and  with  a  savagely  muttered  something  about 
"th'  damned  stuff!"  whirled  the  little  stallion  and 
rode  rapidly  in  the  direction  from  which  he  came. 

As  Captain  Jack  galloped  along  the  lane  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid  looked  at  the  hat  curiously,  turning  it  first 


150  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

one  way  and  then  the  other.  With  a  laugh  he 
reached  into  his  pocket  and  drew  out  the  pink  satin 
garter.  An  expression  of  tenderness,  followed  by  a 
look  of  deep  humility  that  quickly  changed  into  sav- 
age anger,  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  looked  first  at 
the  hat,  soiled  and  dirty,  and  then  at  the  dainty  bit 
of  elastic  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"A  swell  pair  of  souvenirs,"  he  said  bitterly, 
"for  an  'ign'rant,  savage,  stupid  brute'  of  a  cow- 
puncher  to  be  packin'  around !" 

Before  reaching  the  barn  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
dropped  the  garter  again  into  his  pocket.  Rounding 
the  end  of  the  shed  he  rode  Captain  Jack  directly 
up  to  Carolyn  June.  Dismounting,  he  left  the  little 
roan  standing,  not  troubling  to  drop  the  reins  over 
the  broncho's  head,  stepped  toward  the  girl  and 
extended  the  hat,  saying  simply  and  without  emo- 
tion. 

"Here's  your  hat!" 

There  was  no  embarrassment  now  or  humility  in 
his  eyes  as  he  looked  steadily  at  Carolyn  June.  His 
expression  was  as  cold  as  if  the  one  to  whom  he 
spoke  was  an  utter  stranger. 

"I — "  Carolyn  June  hesitated,  "oh,  I  thank  you ! 
It  was  kind  of  you  to  think  about  it  and  ride  back 
— back — there,"  she  involuntarily  shuddered  when 
she  thought  of  the  upper  crossing,  "and  get  it!" 

The  simple,  unexpected  thought  fulness  of  the 
deed  touched  her.  It  was  the  natural,  instinctive  act 
of  a  gentleman.  She  had  forgotten  the  hat.  He  had 


FIXING  FIXERS  151 

not.  As  she  looked  at  him  she  felt  that,  someway, 
she  might  have  known  such  a  thing  was  exactly 
what  he  would  do. 

"You're  welcome,"  he  said  quietly,  starting  to 
turn  away. 

A  spirit  of  mischief  suddenly  flared  up  in  her 
heart.  She  thought  of  the  pink  elastic  she  had  lost 
and  which  she  believed  he  was  carrying  now  in  his 
pocket. 

"Is  the  hat  all — didn't  you — "  she  intended  to  say 
"find  something  else?"  but  quickly  stopped.  The 
Ramblin'  Kid  paused  and  turned  again  toward  Car- 
olyn June.  She  hesitated  in  confusion.  It  had 
flashed  to  her  mind  that  if  he  had  the  garter  he 
would  not  lie  about  it.  He  would  say  as  much  and 
offer  to  return  it  to  her.  Someway,  she  did  not 
wish  that — she  wanted  him  to  keep  it,  but  she  did 
not  want  him  to  know  that  she  wanted  her  garter 
to  be  carried  by  him ! 

His  black  eyes  looked  keenly  at  her,  as  if  they 
would  force  from  her  lips  the  thing  she  evidently 
dared  not  say. 

"I — I  was  just  getting  acquainted  with  the  Gold 
Dust  maverick !"  Carolyn  June  finished  lamely  with 
a  nervous  laugh. 

"You  want  to  be  careful,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  said 
with  the  slightest  curl  of  his  lips  at  her  obvious 
shifting  of  meanings,  "she  ain't  exactly  a  'lady's 
animal'  yet.  She'll  fight.  Skinny  started  to  go  in 
th'  corral  this  morning  an'  had  to  back  up.  Th' 


152  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

maverick  went  at  him  to  kill.  She's  goin'  to  be  a 
'one-man'  horse  th'  same  as  Captain  Jack." 

"Perhaps  it  was  because  she  was  afraid  of  him," 
Carolyn  June  suggested. 

"Maybe  it  was  because  Skinny  was  afraid  of 
her,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  chuckled. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  ride  the  filly  in  that  race  at 
Eagle  Butte?"  she  asked  suddenly  with  a  hint  of 
coquetry  in  her  eyes  and  voice. 

"Why?"  he  shot  back  at  her,  observing  the 
changed  inflection  and  look. 

"I — I — would  like  you  to,"  Carolyn  June  mur- 
mured demurely  as  she  followed  up  the  feminine 
method  of  mastering  a  man,  "it  would  be  fun  to  see 
her  run!" 

"Is  that  all?"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  asked  gently  and 
with  a  peculiar  emphasis. 

"Isn't  that  enough  ?"  the  girl  countered  in  a  tone 
bordering  dose  to  the  tender. 

The  answer  was  slow  in  coming. 

"Th'  Gold  Dust  maverick  will  be  in  th'  sweep- 
stakes," the  Ramblin'  Kid  finally  said,  a  note  of 
contempt  in  his  voice.  "I'll  ride  her" — as  he  jerked 
the  saddle  from  Captain  Jack,  turned  the  stallion 
into  the  corral,  then  started  toward  the  bunk-house, 
while  Carolyn  June  moved  away  in  the  direction  of 
the  back-yard  gate — "I'll  ride  her,"  he  repeated, 
emphasizing  strongly  the  last  ten  words,  "to  beat 
that  Thunderbolt  horse  from  over  on  th'  Verwiejo !" 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE 

OLD  HECK  and  Parker  returned  from  Eagle 
Butte  before  noon.  Parker  climbed  silently 
from  the  Clagstone  "Six"  and  lifting  out  a  new 
saddle  went  toward  the  stable.  Old  Heck  carried 
another — a  beautiful  thing,  artistically  scrolled,  the 
horn  and  stirrups  silver  trimmed — and  laid  it  on  the 
front  porch  as  Carolyn  June,  Ophelia  and  Skinny 
stepped  out  of  the  big  room. 

"It's  yours,"  he  said  to  Carolyn  June. 

"Oh,  you  darling  old  uncle!"  she  exclaimed, 
throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  giving  a 
tight  squeeze  while  she  kissed  him  full  on  the  mouth. 

He  reddened.  "I  ain't  so  darned  old !"  he  laughed 
as  he  withdrew  from  her  embrace  and,  glancing  up, 
caught  sight  of  Skinny  in  the  immaculate  shirt. 
"My  Gawd !"  he  whispered  under  his  breath. 

Parker  immediately  saddled  a  horse  and  rode 
away  to  join  the  cowboys  at  their  work.  Lunches 
for  the  party  had  been  taken  with  them  when  they 
left  the  ranch  in  the  morning.  During  the  trip  to 
Eagle  Butte  Old  Heck  and  his  foreman  had  talked 
but  little.  There  was  a  feeling  of  restraint  between 
Parker  and  him  that  made  each  hesitate  to  start  a 

153 


154  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

conversation  that  would  be  almost  certain  to  work 
around  to  a  discussion  of  Ophelia — a  subject  upper- 
most in  the  minds  of  both. 

At  noon  the  Ramblin'  Kid  came  to  the  house  for 
dinner. 

He  and  Skinny  occupied  their  usual  places.  He 
looked  once  at  Skinny 's  shirt,  murmured  softly  and 
in  a  tone  of  infinite  disgust  and  pity,  "Hell !"  then 
ate  his  food  in  silence.  During  the  meal  Carolyn 
June  ignored  him,  but  smiled  tenderly  and  often  at 
Skinny.  Old  Heck  and  the  widow,  at  the  far  end 
of  the  table,  carried  on  a  low-voiced  dialogue. 

During  the  afternoon  the  Ramblin'  Kid  remained 
away  from  the  house.  A  couple  of  times,  glancing 
out  of  the  window,  Carolyn  June  saw  him  at  the 
circular  corral  petting  and  caressing  Captain  Jack 
or  the  Gold  Dust  maverick. 

When  Sing  Pete  hammered  the  iron  triangle  an- 
nouncing supper  Parker  and  the  cowboys  had  re- 
turned, the  hides  from  the  dead  steers  had  been  un- 
loaded and  the  men  were  ready  for  the  meal. 

As  Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia  went  into  the 
kitchen  they  exchanged  a  look  of  understanding. 
Skinny  lagged  behind  Old  Heck.  He  dreaded  the 
shock  of  the  white  shirt  on  the  other  cowboys. 
When  he  stepped  into  the  room  his  face  flamed 
scarlet  and  beads  of  sweat  stood  out  on  his  fore- 
head. He  expected  merciless,  sarcastic  chiding — 
thinly  veiled  but  cruel.  He  was  disappointed.  The 
cowboys  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  exchanged 


A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE  155 

winks,  then  sat  silently  and  solemnly  down  to  the 
table.  The  presence  of  the  women  had  saved,  for 
the  time  being,  the  suffering  Skinny. 

Carolyn  June  distributed  tender  words  and  vel- 
vety looks  impartially  among  the  younger  cowboys, 
while  Ophelia  alternated  sweet  nothings  between 
Parker  and  Old  Heck,  with  an  occasional  sidelong 
glance  at  Charley  that  brought  a  heightened  color 
to  his  sun-browned  cheeks. 

Chuck  sighed  dolefully. 

"Why  so  sad?"  Carolyn  June  asked  gently,  look- 
ing with  melting  sympathy  at  the  pensive  cowboy. 

"I — I — was  just  thinking  of  a — a — funeral  I  saw 
once!"  he  answered,  gazing  steadily  and  with  pre- 
tended awe  at  Skinny's  white  shirt.  "Some  colors 
always  remind  me  of  funerals  or — or — weddings!" 
he  explained. 

A  suppressed  snicker  circled  the  table. 

"Don't  be  down-hearted,"  Carolyn  June  laughed, 
"it  may  not  go  that  far. 

"Uncle  Josiah,"  she  added  suddenly,  "Ophelia 
and  I  have  a  wonderful  surprise  for  you  and  the 
boys." 

Old  Heck  looked  at  her  without  replying  while  he 
awaited  an  explanation, 

"We  are  ^oing  to  give  a  dance!"  Carolyn  June 
went  on. 

"A  dance?"  he  repeated  incredulously,  "when — " 

"To-night — in  the  front  room,"  she  hastened  to 
explain,  "not  a  big  dance — just  a  little  one  for  you 


156  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

and  the  boys.  The  graphophone  will  furnish  music, 
there  are  some  good  one-step  and  waltz  records — 
Skinny  and  I  were  playing  them  this  afternoon 
— and  every  blessed  cowboy  on  the  Quarter  Circle 
KT  must  be  there !" 

A  short  silence  followed  her  words,  then  a  chorus 
of  "We'll  be  there !"  greeted  her. 

"In  an  hour,"  Carolyn  June  said,  smiling  sweetly 
at  the  cowboys,  as  they  left  the  kitchen,  "everybody 
be  back  at  the  house.  We'll  fix  the  room  and  have 
it  ready — don't  any  one  bother  to  'dress  up/  "  she 
added  as  an  afterthought. 

"Old  Heck's  niece  acts  kind  of  stampedish,  don't 
she?"  Bert  remarked  as  Parker  and  the  cowboys 
filed  out  of  the  back-yard  gate  toward  the  bunk- 
house. 

"Yes,"  Charley  answered.   "I'm  going  to  shave." 

"So  am  I,"  said  Chuck,  as  they  hurried  in  the 
direction  of  their  sleeping  quarters. 

"Me,  too,"  laughed  Bert.  "Gee,  didn't  Skinny 
shine  in  that  shirt?"  as  they  disappeared  inside  the 
"building  and  there  was  a  rush  to  hunt  out  razors, 
brushes  and  other  toilet  necessities  or  clean  hand- 
kerchiefs and  ties. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  alone  seemed  uninterested.  He 
dropped  down  on  his  bed  and  idly  watched  the 
others  prepare  for  the  evening's  diversion. 

"Ain't  you  going?"  Chuck  asked  him,  noticing  his 
indifference. 

A  short,  half-cynical  laugh  with  "Oh,  maybe  I'll 


A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE  157 

go  set  on  the  porch  an'  listen  to  th'  music !"  was  the 
answer. 

When  Parker  and  the  cowboys  reappeared  at  the 
house  it  was  plain  that  all  had  disobeyed  Carolyn 
June's  injunction  not  to  "dress  up."  Each  had  paid 
tribute  in  some  way,  by  a  smooth-scraped  face,  a 
clean  shirt,  a  tie  or  something,  to  the  vanity  of  his 
own  heart  and  the  desire  for  the  good  opinion  of 
either  Carolyn  June  or  the  widow. 

Both  women  noticed  it.  They  exchanged  glances 
while  Carolyn  June  softly  whispered  to  Ophelia: 
"Stir  them  up — it's  coming  to  them !" 

The  widow  smiled  understandingly. 

Old  Heck  fidgeted  uncomfortably.  The  situation 
was  entirely  beyond  his  control.  By  right  he  and 
Ophelia  ought  to  be  sitting  there  quietly  making 
love,  while  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June,  in  another 
corner  of  the  room  or  out  on  the  porch,  were  doing 
the  same  thing.  He  would  just  have  to  await  de- 
velopments. 

Parker  was  elated.  Carolyn  June's  proposal  had 
broken  up  Old  Heck's  evening  alone  with  the 
widow.  Perhaps — the  thought  thrilled  the  foreman 
— Ophelia  herself  had  planned  it ! 

"Skinny  can  keep  the  graphophone  working," 
Carolyn  June  laughed.  "Put  on  a  one-step  first," 
she  said  as  he  rather  grudgingly  went  to  the  corner 
and  started  the  music.  "Come  on,  Bert,  we'll  dance 
this  one,"  she  cried  merrily,  as  she  stepped  up  to 
the  blushing  cowboy  and  put  her  hand,  with  a  tender 


158  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

little  pressure,  on  his  arm.  "It's  'ladies'  night/  you 
know — Ophelia,  pick  your  pardner !" 

"Aw — don't  you  reckon  you  ought  to  choose  one 
of  the  others  first?"  Bert,  considerably  embarrassed 
by  the  sudden  attention,  mumbled  as  he  moved  with 
pretended  reluctance  but  secret  eagerness  out  on  to 
the  floor. 

"I  know  who  I  want  to  dance  with!"  Carolyn 
June  whispered  significantly  with  another  squeeze  of 
his  arm  while  her  warm  breath  fanned  his  cheek. 

For  a  moment  Ophelia  stood  as  if  undecided 
while  Old  Heck  and  Parker  each  tried  by  their  looks 
to  register  unconcern,  their  hearts  meanwhile  leap- 
ing with  uncertain  expectancy  and  hope.  Suddenly 
turning  from  both  and  going  up  to  Charley,  she  said 
softly  and  with  well- feigned  shyness: 

"I — I — please,  won't  you  dance  this  one  with 
me?" 

"With  the  most  exceeding  pleasure!"  Charley 
replied  gallantly,  arising  and  reaching  out  his  hands. 

Parker  and  Old  Heck  gulped  their  astonishment 
and  disappointment — each  swallowing  as  if  he  had 
something  in  his  throat  that  would  not  go  down^ 
and  glared  savagely  at  each  other. 

Skinny  next  put  on  a  waltz  record.  Carolyn  June 
and  Chuck  swung  through  its  dreamy  rhythm  while 
her  hair  brushed  the  cowboy's  neck  and  her  eyes, 
half  closed,  looked  alluringly  into  his.  "I — I — • 
could  do  this  forever — with  you!"  she  breathed, 


A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE  159 

accenting  the  last  word  and  making  Chuck  want  to 
yell  for  joy. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  waltz  Ophelia  paused  a 
moment  before  Old  Heck,  glanced  demurely  at 
Parker,  took  a  step  toward  the  latter,  turned  quickly 
to  the  first  and  flooding  him  with  a  look  of  tender- 
ness held  out  her  hands  while  she  spoke  the  simple 
entreaty : 

"Please !" 

Old  Heck  leaped  to  his  feet,  hitched  nervously  at 
the  belt  of  his  trousers,  ran  his  fingers  around  the 
inside  of  his  collar,  and,  with  a  look  of  triumph  at 
Parker,  led  the  widow  through  the  dance.  She  per- 
mitted her  body  to  relax  and  lean  against  her  part- 
ner, dancing  with  an  abandon  that  not  only  fired  the 
emotions  of  Old  Heck  to  fever  heat,  but  was  as  well 
like  dippers  of  oil  on  the  flame  of  the  foreman's 
jealousy. 

Parker  gritted  his  teeth  and  followed  Old  Heck 
with  a  look  that  meant  nothing  less  than  the  desire 
to  kill! 

As  Ophelia  and  Old  Heck,  and  Carolyn  June  with 
Chuck  circled  the  room  Skinny  leaned  weakly 
against  the  graphophone.  He  was  tortured  agoniz- 
ingly by  the  strange  action  of  Carolyn  June.  He 
was  her  lover,  her  official,  absolute  lover !  Why  did 
she  want  to  go  and  get  things  all  mixed  up  like  this  ? 
It  wasn't  fair.  The  other  boys  were  not  supposed  to 
make  love  to  her!  They  had  elected  him  to  do  it 


160  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

and  he  was  getting  along  all  right  till  she  thought  of 
having  this  blamed  fool  dance.  He  began  to  doubt 
the  efficacy  of  the  white  shirt  and  frequently  drew 
one  of  the  loose,  baggy  sleeves — rapidly  losing  their 
snowy  spotlessness — across  his  face  to  rid  himself 
of  beads  of  perspiration. 

The  waltz  was  followed  by  another  one-step  and 
Ophelia  granted  this  favor  to  Parker  while  Old 
Heck  sat  and  swore  steadily  under  his  breath — re- 
gretful that  he  had  not  sent  the  foreman  and  the 
cowboys  out  on  the  beef  hunt  a  week  ago ! 

Outside,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  half-reclined  on  the 
edge  of  the  porch.  With  a  cigarette  between  his 
teeth,  a  sneering  srmle  on  his  lips,  he  watched, 
through  the  open  door,  the  group  within.  He  was 
convinced  now  that  Carolyn  June  was  utterly  frivo- 
lous. She  danced  and  flirted  with  Bert,  Chuck, 
Charley — and  even  Pedro — one  after  the  other  and 
occasionally  Parker.  Poor  Skinny  alone  was  neg- 
lected. She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  he  existed 
save  when,  from  time  to  time,  she  suggested  that  he 
put  this  or  that  record  on  the  graphophone.  To  each 
of  the  cowboys  she  whispered  tender  little  senti- 
ments, gave  soulful  looks  and  insinuating  smiles — 
all  but  caressed  them  openly.  Ophelia  did  like  things 
to  Old  Heck,  Parker  and  Charley. 

In  very  truth  it  was  a  "slaughter." 

It  was  hot.  After  an  hour  Carolyn  June  stepped 
out  on  the  porch  for  a  breath  of  air  while  Skinny 
sought  in  the  cabinet  for  a  record  she  had  asked 


A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE  161 

him  to  play.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  straightened  up  as 
she  came  out  of  the  door.  He  was  disgusted,  angry, 
heart-sickened.  He  had  seen  enough  and  was  start- 
ing to  leave. 

Carolyn  June  had  noticed  the  absence  of  the  Ram- 
blin'  Kid.  She  had  believed,  all  evening,  he  was  on 
the  porch  and  that  was  the  real  reason  she  had  come 
outside.  She  saw  him.  "Oh,  is. — is — that  you,  Ram- 
blin' Kid?"  she  exclaimed  as  if  surprised,  and  went 
quickly  to  where,  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  he  had 
paused. 

He  did  not  answer.  The  light  shone  full  on  his 
face  and  he  knew  that  she  knew — and  had  known 
before  she  spoke — that  he  was  there.  His  eyes  were 
filled  with  a  look  queerly  blending  scorn,  loathing, 
pity  and  pain. 

"Why — why — don't  you  come  in  and  dance  ?"  she 
asked  lightly,  not  certain  of  his  mood. 

"I  don't  want  to,"  he  replied  coldly :  "anyhow — 
he  added  with  a  sneer  and  a  brutal  laugh  as  he 
slowly  moved  away  in  the  darkness,  "when  I  decide 
to  hug  I'll  hug  in  private !" 

Carolyn  June  started  almost  as  though  he  had 
struck  her.  The  taunt  was  an  insult!  A  flood  of 
anger  swept  over  her.  "The  brute !"  she  whispered 
passionately  and  with  utter  contempt  in  her  voice. 
She  stood  a  moment.  Suddenly  she  remembered  the 
reckless  abandon  with  which  she  had  been  dancing 
and  flirting  with  the  cowboys  inside  the  house.  Her 
face  flamed  scarlet.  She  looked  out  into  the  black- 


162  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

ness  toward  the  circular  corral.  Her  expression 
changed  and  a  pitying  smile  crossed  her  lips :  "Poor 
Ramblin'  Kid — he  just — does  not  understand!"  she 
murmured  and  stepped  back  into  the  house. 

As  the  Ramblin'  Kid  passed  through  the  back- 
yard gate  he  muttered  savagely  under  his  breath: 
"Playin'  with  their  hearts  like  marbles — th'  damned 
fools !"  He  paused  a  moment  and  added,  as  though 
tired,  "Oh,  well,  I  reckon  she  thinks  she  has  to  do 
it — it's  her  breed — she  was  raised  that  way  I 
guess !" 

The  snuffling  sound  of  a  horse  blowing  hay- 
powder  or  other  dust  from  its  nostrils  came  from 
the  direction  of  the  circular  corral.  The  Ramblin' 
Kid  stopped  in  his  walk  and  turning  went  thought- 
fully through  the  darkness  toward  where  Captain 
Jack  and  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  were  quietly  feed- 
ing. He  leaned  against  the  bars  of  the  corral  and 
looked  at  the  shadowy  forms  of  the  two  horses 
standing  a  little  distance  away.  Captain  Jack  quit 
eating  and  came  to  the  fence. 

"God!  Little  Horse"— the  Ramblin'  Kid  spoke 
tensely  and  without  repression — "why  can't  humans 
be  as  decent  an'  honest  as  you?" 

The  black  dome  of  night  was  studded  with  in- 
numerable stars  that  gleamed  like  points  of  silver 
sprinkled  over  a  canopy  of  somber  velvet  some  in- 
finite hand  had  flung,  in  a  great  arch,  from  rim  to 
rim  of  a  sleeping  world.  The  call  of  a  night  bird 
shrilled  softly  from  the  cottonwood  trees  along  the 


A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE  163 

Cimarron.  A  hint  of  a  breeze  swung  idly  from  the 
west  and  rustled  the  leaves  in  the  tops  of  the  poplars 
In  front  of  the  house.  Faintly  as  a  distant  echo 
came  the  wailing  strains  of  a  waltz,  drifting  out 
from  the  lighted  windows  and  the  open  door  of  the 
room  where  Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia,  in  a  spirit 
of  sport  and  for  revenge,  juggled  the  hearts  of  men 
afraid  of  nothing  in  all  the  world  but  the  look  in  a 
woman's  eyes. 

The  music  tortured  the  soul  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 
It  breathed  the  unfathomable  strife  of  life — of 
love,  longing,  hope,  despair — almost,  yet  subtly,  elu- 
sively,  would  not  tell  the  eternal  "Why?"  of  all 
things. 

Not  heeding  time,  he  stood  and  listened.  The 
crunching  sound  made  by  the  Gold  Dust  maverick, 
munching  at  the  pile  of  hay  on  the  ground  in  the 
corral,  blended  with  and  seemed  a  queer  accompani- 
ment to  the  melody  that  came  from  the  scene  of 
revelry  up  at  the  house. 

The  orange  disk  of  a  late-rising  moon  showed 
above  the  rim  of  the  sand-hills  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  valley.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  watched  it — until  it 
grew  into  a  rounded  plate  of  burnished,  glistening 
silver.  The  Gold  Dust  maverick  was  suddenly 
flooded  with  a  glare  of  light  as  the  moonbeams 
poured  over  the  top  of  the  shed  and  streamed 
through  the  bars  of  the  circular  corral.  The  filly 
lifted  her  head. 

An  impulse  to  ride — ride — ride,  to  get  away  from 


164  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

it  all — far  out  on  the  wide  unpeopled  plains  where 
there  was  nothing  above  but  God,  and  the  unmeas- 
ured depths  of  His  heavens,  and  nothing  beneatH 
but  the  earth  and  the  rhythmic  beat  of  his  horse's 
feet,  came  over  the  Ramblin'  Kid.  Men,  and  the 
works  of  men — their  passions,  their  strifes,  their 
foolishness — and  women — women  who  played  with 
love — he  wanted  to  forget,  to  leave  miles  and  miles 
behind. 

He  started  to  open  the  gate,  thinking  to  saddle 
Captain  Jack  and  obey  the  impulse  of  the  moment 
Carolyn  June's  words,  spoken  of  the  Gold  Dust 
maverick:  "It  would  be  fun  to  see  her  run!"  and 
uttered  lightly  and  in  a  spirit  of  coquetry  that  morn- 
ing when  she  teased  him  to  enter  the  outlaw  filly  in 
the  race  against  the  Thunderbolt  horse  from  the  Ver- 
mejo,  came  to  his  mind.  The  selfishness  of  the  plea 
maddened  him.  She  cared  nothing  for  the  price  in 
effort — the  straining  muscles,  the  panting  breath — 
the  agony  the  beautiful  mare  must  pay  to  defeat  the 
black  wonder  from  the  other  part  of  the  range.  She 
wanted  only  to  see  the  maverick  run — to  coax  him 
to  yield  and  run  the  filly  merely  to  please  the  cheap 
vanity  of  her  sex!  No  doubt  also  she  counted  on 
entertainment  when,  to-morrow,  he  would  ride  the 
outlaw  for  the  first  time.  It  would  be  a  kind  of 
show — the  battle  for  mastery  between  himself  and 
the  high-bred  untamed  mare.  The  whole  bunch — • 
Old  Heck,  Parker,  Ophelia,  Carolyn  June,  the  cow- 
boys— yes,  even  that  damned  Chink — unquestionr 


A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE  165 

ably  would  be  crowded  about  the  corral  to  watch  the 
fear  and  pain  of  the  maverick  as  she  learned  her 
first  hard  lesson  of  servitude  to  man!  They  would 
laugh  at  her  frenzied  efforts  to  throw  him. 

He  would  fool  them.  He  would  ride  the  filly  to- 
night ! 

He  went  to  the  shed,  slipped  his  legs  into  the  worn 
leather  chaps,  took  saddle,  bridle,  blanket  and  rope 
and  returned  to  the  corral. 

Stepping  inside  he  closed  the  gate  behind  him. 

Captain  Jack  came  to  him  and  nosed  at  his 
shoulder. 

"No,  Little  Man,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  said  gently, 
"this  ain't  your  turn.  You  can  go  with  us  though, 
if  you  want  to !"  he  laughed. 

The  Gold  Dust  maverick  stood,  half -afraid,  at  the 
other  side  of  the  corral.  She  had  not  yet  wholly 
conquered  her  dread  of  him.  She  did  not,  however, 
offer  to  fight  as  she  had  done  that  morning  when 
Skinny  entered  the  enclosure. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  spoke  to  the  filly  and,  as  she 
began  to  move  shyly  away,  with  one  toss  threw  the 
loop  over  her  head.  The  instant  the  mare  felt  the 
rope  she  stopped  and  stood  trembling  a  moment, 
then  came  straight  up  to  him.  She  was  "rope-wise." 
The  experience  at  the  North  Springs  the  night  he 
caught  her,  and  when  she  had,  three  separate  times, 
been  cruelly  thrown  by  this  same  rope,  had  taught 
the  Gold  Dust  maverick  the  power  that  lay  in  those 
pliant  strands. 


166  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

She  flinched  from  the  touch  of  the  blanket.  The 
Ramblin'  Kid  worked  easily,  carefully,  but  in  abso- 
lute confidence,  with  her.  As  he  cautiously  saddled 
the  mare  he  talked  in  a  low,  drawling  monotone, 
uttering  endearing  phrases  and  occasionally  slipping 
a  lump  of  sugar — a  supply  of  which  he  had  got 
that  night  from  the  kitchen — into  her  mouth.  She 
ate  it  ravenously. 

"Darn,  Little  One,"  he  laughed,  "you  sure  have 
got  a  sweet  tooth — you  gobble  that  sugar  like  an 
Indian  squaw  eatin'  choc'late  candy !" 

At  last  the  mare  was  saddled.  Still  holding  to 
the  rope,  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  without  trying  to  get 
the  filly  to  follow,  moved  over  and  opened  the  gate, 
giving  it  a  push  and  swinging  it  wide.  During  the 
performance  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  stood  perfectly 
still,  save  for  a  constant  chewing  at  the  iron  bit  be- 
tween her  teeth. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  went  quietly  up  to  her,  coiling 
the  slack  of  the  rope  as  he  advanced.  Without 
bothering  to  tighten  the  reins,  but  watching  closely 
the  look  in  the  maverick's  big  brown  eyes  and  the 
nervous  twitching  of  her  ears,  he  laid  one  hand  on 
the  withers  of  the  outlaw,  with  the  other  he  grasped 
the  horn  of  the  saddle  and  slipping  his  foot  in  the 
stirrup  swung  quickly  and  lightly  on  to  her  back. 

For  the  space  of  a  deep  breath  the  maverick 
crouched,  grew  tense  in  every  muscle,  slowly  arched 
her  back,  gathered  herself  together  for  a  great  ef- 
fort. 


A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE  167 

A  quiet  smile  curled  the  lips  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
as  he  looked  down  on  the  curving  neck  of  the  beau- 
tiful creature. 

With  a  tremendous  leap  the  Geld  Dust  maverick 
sprang  high  into  the  air,  lunging  forward  while  all 
her  hoofs  were  off  the  ground.  Her  forefeet  came 
down  across  the  back  of  Captain  Jack — she  had  all 
but  cleared  the  little  roan.  The  shock  almost  threw 
the  stallion  to  the  ground.  As  he  surged  from  under 
her  the  filly  slid  and  sprawled  on  her  shoulder  and 
side.  Instantly  she  was  on  her  feet,  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  still  in  the  saddle.  His  spurs  had  not  touched 
the  mare — instead  he  had  been  careful  not  to  let 
their  steel  points  so  much  as  ruffle  the  golden- 
chestnut  hair  of  her  belly  or  flank.  Only  when  the 
outlaw  fell  had  he  thrown  forward  his  right  leg 
and  hooked  the  sharp  rowels  into  the  strong  fiber 
of  the  forward  cinch.  With  the  left  hand  he  loosely 
held  the  reins,  giving  the  maverick  her  head — the 
other  hand  he  brushed  with  a  caressing  upward 
movement  along  her  glossy  neck. 

Twice  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  circled  the  corral, 
plunging,  bucking,  "side-winding,"  desperately — 
her  nose  between  her  knees,  squealing  pitifully — 
as  she  tried  vainly  to  rid  herself  of  the  weight  of 
the  Ramblin'  Kid. 

"Go  to  it,  Baby  Girl,  go  to  it!"  he  chuckled; 
"you've  got  to  learn!  Sooner  or  later  you'll  find 
out  it  can't  be  done !"  He  rode  limply,  loosely,  low 
in  the  saddle,  and  while  he  made  no  effort  to  urge 


168  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

the  filly  into  greater  frenzy  he  did  not  try  in  any  way 
to  prevent  her  bucking  her  hardest  in  the  futile  at- 
tempts to  hurl  him  off  her  back. 

The  second  time  the  outlaw  mare  came  to  the 
gate  she  whirled  and  dashed  through  the  opening, 
out  of  the  corral,  across  the  open  space,  past  the 
corner  of  the  front-yard  fence  and  along  the  road 
that  led  up  to  the  bench  and  toward  Eagle  Butte. 
Captain  Jack  trotted  around  the  corral  once,  then 
followed  at  a  long,  swinging  gallop. 

The  noise  of  the  filly  bucking  inside  the  corral 
reached  the  ears  of  the  dancers  in  the  big  room  at 
the  house. 

"What  in  thunderation's  that  commotion?"  Old 
Heck  exclaimed,  starting  up — he  and  Ophelia  had 
just  finished  a  two-step  and  Skinny  was  winding 
the  graphophone  to  play  his  favorite,  the  alluring 
La  Paloma. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause,  then  a  rush  for  the 
door. 

Carolyn  June  reached  the  porch  just  in  time  to 
see  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  "hitting  the  breeze" — 
careering  madly,  wildly  pitching  as  she  ran  past  the 
opening  in  front  of  the  house  and  up  the  road  out 
on  the  bench.  It  was  almost  as  though  a  phantom 
horse  and  rider  had  passed  before  her  sight. 

"Lord !  Look  at  them  go !"  Charley  cried  admir- 
ingly. 

At  first  the  girl  had  not  recognized  the  outlaw 
mare  or  her  rider. 


A  DANCE  AND  A  RIDE  169 

"Who — what — is  it?"  she  asked  Chuck,  who  was 
standing  beside  her. 

Bert  answered  for  Chuck.  "It's  that  darn- fool 
Ramblin'  Kid — he's  riding  the  Gold  Dust  maver- 
ick !"  he  said.  "Ain't  that  just  like  the  blamed  idiot 
— to  go  and  ride  that  filly  to-night?" 

"Aw,  he's  liable  to  do  anything,"  Charley  com- 
mented, "he's—" 

Before  the  sentence  was  finished  the  beautiful 
mare  and  her  apparently  careless  rider,  with  Cap- 
tain Jack  a  hundred  yards  behind,  disappeared  over 
the  brink  of  the  bench  and  in  the  silence  that  fol- 
lowed the  group  on  the  porch  heard  only  the  dis- 
tant thudding  of  hoofs  beating  an  ever  fainter  tat- 
too through  the  calm,  moonlit  night. 

Carolyn  June  went  back  into  the  house  with  con- 
flicting emotions  surging  through  her  heart.  She 
believed  she  knew  why  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had  elected 
to  ride  the  outlaw  filly  to-night.  But  her  thoughts 
she  kept  to  herself. 

For  an  hour  longer  the  dance  continued.  But 
not  with  the  spirit  of  earlier  in  the  evening.  The 
interruption  took  something  of  the  eagerness  to  pun- 
ish Old  Heck,  Parker  and  the  cowboys,  out  of  the 
heart  of  Carolyn  June.  A  bit  of  doubt  that  the  role 
she  and  Ophelia  were  playing  was  worthy  of  true 
womanhood  crept  into  her  mind. 

When  the  widow  and  Carolyn  June  were  alone 
Ophelia  laughed. 

"Whew!"  she  exclaimed,  "that  was  a  strenuous 


170  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

party!     I've  danced  till  my  feet  ache!     Do  you 
think  our  little  'counterplot'  was  a  success  ?" 

"Entirely!"  Carolyn  June  replied  with  an  uncer- 
tain chuckle.  "Uncle  Josiah,  Parker  and  Charley 
will  dream  dreams  about  you  and  fight  duels  in  their 
sleep  to-night!" 

"I  think  the  others — "  the  widow  started  to  say, 
then  pausing,  finished:  "Wasn't  it  queer  the  Ram- 
blin'  Kid  decided  to  ride  that  outlaw  horse  to-night 
instead  of  coming  to  the  house  to  dance?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  Carolyn  June  answered  in- 
differently. 

"I  guess  it's  as  Charley  says,"  Ophelia  remarked : 
"  'You  can't  tell  what  th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  liable  to 
do'—" 

"I  suppose  not,"  Carolyn  June  replied  wearily  as 
she  went  into  her  room.  "Good  night !" 

"Good  night !"  Ophelia  echoed. 


CHAPTER  XII 
YOU'LL  GET  YOUR  WISH 

IT  WAS  a  silent  group  that  gathered  in  the  bunk- 
house  after  the  dance.  Old  Heck,  Parker,  Char- 
ley and  the  other  cowboys  had  been  unduly  stimu- 
lated by  the  music,  the  laughter  and  the  bright  smiles 
of  Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia.  When  they  stepped 
(out  of  the  house  into  the  cool  night  these  all  were 
left  behind.  The  cowmen  quickly  sobered  down  and 
by  the  time  they  reached  their  sleeping  quarters  on 
the  faces  of  all  were  half-ashamed  looks  as  if  they 
had  been  playing  at  a  game  not  quite  dignified 
enough  or  proper  for  men  of  maturity  and  serious- 
ness. 

All  were  thoughtful  and  none  seemed  eager  to 
start  conversation. 

Skinny  was  dejected  and  utterly  miserable. 

He  felt  that  he  had  been  cruelly  treated.  Caro- 
lyn June  had  acted  all  evening  as  though  his  only 
object  in  living  was  to  stand  in  the  corner  and  wind 
up  that  blamed  graphophone,  while  she  openly  flirted 
with  the  other  cowboys.  Skinny  was  grateful  to 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  who,  alone  of  all  the  cow- 
punchers,  had  decency  enough  to  stay  away  and  not 
interfere  with  the  original  agreement.  The  Ram- 

171 


172  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

blin'  Kid  had  some  sense  and  was  square.  He  had 
realized  that  any  fellow  officially  elected  to  make 
love — especially  when  he  didn't  want  to  do  it  in  the 
first  place — ought  to  be  allowed  to  go  ahead  and 
make  it  without  having  a  lot  of  darned  buckaroos 
butting  in  on  the  job. 

The  way  the  others  had  acted  was  a  regular  dis- 
grace ! 

Chuck,  Bert,  Charley  and  Pedro  were  nervously 
happy.  In  the  heart  of  each  was  a  thrill,  caused  by 
the  memory  of  some  secret — or  what  he  thought 
was  a  secret — manifestation  of  Carolyn  June's  in- 
terest. Perhaps  it  was  no  more  than  the  brushing 
of  a  stray  whiff  of  odorous  brown  hair  against  a 
weather-tanned  cheek,  the  pulsing  of  a  warm  breath 
on  the  side  of  a  muscular  neck,  a  melting  look  from 
a  pair  of  luminous  eyes,  some  low-spoken  word  or 
the  pressure  of  a  hand,  but  whatever  it  was,  each  of 
the  cowboys  was  reasonably  certain  he  had  been  sin- 
gled out  for  special  favors.  Charley  was  doubly 
blessed.  In  addition  to  Carolyn  June's  seductive 
advances  he  had  the  memory,  also,  of  Ophelia's  at- 
tentions. His  mind  was  awhirl  with  the  effort  to 
figure  out  which  one,  by  rights,  he  ought  to  consider 
as  a  permanent  possibility. 

Old  Heck  and  Parker  were  in  a  quandary. 

Neither  was  sure  of  his  standing  with  Ophelia 
although  each  had  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  her 
favorite.  Her  interest  in  Charley  added  an  unex- 
pected and  perplexing  equation  to  their  problem. 


YOU'LL  GET  YOUR  WISH  173 

"Gosh,"  Chuck  finally  exclaimed,  "that  dance  sure 
was  some  blow-out!" 

"I  should  say  it  was!"  Bert  agreed  emphatically 
and  with  a  satisfied  grin.  "But  didn't  that  widow 
act  funny  for  an  'anti-he'  suffragette  ?" 

Old  Heck  looked  up,  startled,  as  if  he  had  been  re- 
minded of  a  disagreeable  subject  and  one  he  wished 
to  forget. 

"Are  you  plumb  positive  that  she  is  one,  Parker?" 
Chuck  asked. 

"I  told  you  what  she  was,"  Parker  growled,  "she's 
an  'Organizer'  for  some  sort  of  'Movement'  or 
other." 

"Well,  I'll  be  blamed  if  her  'movements'  to-night 
showed  any  'anti-he'  inclinations,"  Charley  inter- 
rupted. "She  carried  on  more  like  a  female  vam- 
pire than  one  of  these  advocaters  of  woman's 
rights!" 

"Aw,  shut  up  and  go  to  bed,"  Old  Heck  grunted. 
"It's  too  late  to  start  any  argument !" 

The  moon  crept  across  the  heavens  and  was  hang- 
ing above  the  shadowy  peaks  of  the  Costejo  Moun- 
tains when  the  Ramblin'  Kid  returned  to  the  sleep- 
ing Quarter  Circle  KT,  slipped  the  saddle  from  the 
back  of  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  and  turned  the  filly 
and  Captain  Jack  into  the  circular  corral. 

He  had  ridden  the  outlaw  mare  almost  to  Eagle 
Butte. 

She  had  learned  her  lesson.  She  knew,  when  he 
caressed  her  muzzle  and  pressed  the  last  lump  of 


174  ,THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

sugar  into  her  mouth,  before  he  turned  away  to  the 
bunk-house,  that  the  Ramblin'  Kid  was  not  only  her 
master  but  her  friend  as  well — understanding  and 
sympathetic.  Never  again  would  she  doubt  his  will 
or  resist  the  gentle  yet  firm  strength  of  his  hand. 
From  that  moment  the  Gold  Dust  maverick,  like 
Captain  Jack,  was  a  one-man  horse,  ready  to  serve, 
to  trust  and  obey  only  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 

"You  little  beauty,"  he  laughed  tenderly  as  he 
playfully  shook  the  underlip  of  the  filly  and  started 
toward  the  gate,  " — you're  a  runner — gee ! — but 
you're  a  runner !" 

The  others  were  fast  asleep  when  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  noiselessly  opened  the  door  of  the  bunk-house, 
went  in,  and  without  undressing,  stretched  himself 
on  his  bed. 

Old  Heck  awakened  the  cowboys  as  the  sun 
poured  its  first  slanting  rays  through  the  open  un- 
draped  window. 

The  stir  aroused  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 

He  made  no  move  to  arise. 

"Ain't  you  going  to  get  up?"  Old  Heck  said  gar- 
rulously. 

"When  I  damn  please !"  was  the  independent  re- 
ply. "Skinny,  tell  th'  Chink  to  keep  me  a  cup  of 
hot  coffee !" 

Old  Heck  snorted  but  said  no  more. 

Parker  and  the  cowboys  dressed  silently,  half- 
moodily.  They  hardly  knew  yet  how  they  felt  after 
tte  excitement  of  the  night  before.  Skinny  started 


YOU'LL  GET  YOUR  WISH  175 

to  put  on  the  white  shirt,  looked  at  it  contemptu- 
ously a  moment,  and  with  a  muttered  oath  threw  it 
viciously  on  the  bed. 

In  a  few  moments  the  Ramblin'  Kid  was  left 
alone  in  the  bunk-house.  He  lay,  hands  clasped  at 
the  back  of  his  head,  studying.  His  eyes  were 
closed,  but  he  was  not  asleep.  Presently  he  smiled 
and  opened  his  eyes.  He  drew  the  pink  satin  elastic 
from  his  pocket  and  looked  at  it.  "That's  a  hell  of 
a  thing  to  be  packin' — wonder  why  I  keep  it?"  he 
muttered.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  if  he 
was  not  at  breakfast  Carolyn  June  would  think  he 
was  afraid  or  ashamed  to  meet  her.  He  got  up, 
straightened  his  disarranged  clothes,  went  to  the 
house  and  after  stopping  at  the  ditch  by  the  fence 
and  washing  his  face,  walked  indifferently  into  the 
kitchen  and  sat  down  at  his  regular  place.  The 
others  already  were  eating.  Carolyn  June  glanced 
at  him  with  a  meaningless  smile  and  acknowledged, 
without  feeling,  his  quiet  "Good  morning!" 

The  cowboys  were  nervous.  Memory  of  last  night 
was  fresh  in  their  minds.  It  made  them  cautious  in 
their  talk. 

Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June,  also,  were  a  bit  re~ 
strained. 

They  were  not  sure  but  they  had  started  more 
than  it  would  be  easy  to  stop.  The  expressions  in 
the  eyes  of  the  cowboys  paid  tribute  to  the  success 
of  the  two  women's  efforts  at  wholesale  heart- 
wrecking.  The  child-like  acceptance  of  a  simple 


176  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

flirtation  as  the  real  thing,  by  these  husky  riders  of 
the  range,  was  little  less  than  appalling. 

It  all  but  frightened  Carolyn  June  and  the  widow. 

Old  Heck  saw  the  worship  in  the  eyes  of  the 
cowboys. 

"Things  sure  are  in  a  devil  of  a  mix-up!"  he 
growled  to  himself. 

Skinny  was  so  dejected  Carolyn  June  felt  half- 
guilty  and  tried  to  cheer  him  up.  She  began  talking, 
in  a  low  voice,  directly  to  the  melancholy-looking 
cowboy. 

"To-day — or  some  time — when  the  others  are 
away,"  she  said  caressingly,  "you  and  I  will  dance 
all  the  dances  by  ourselves !" 

His  heart  leaped  joyously.  He  was  sorry,  now, 
that  he  had  not  put  on  the  white  shirt.  He  resolved, 
after  a  while,  to  sneak  out  to  the  bunk-house  and 
change. 

The  confidential  talk  between  Carolyn  June  and 
Skinny  galled  Chuck.  He  decided  to  break  it  up. 

"What  was  your  idea  in  riding  the  Gold  Dust 
maverick  last  night?"  he  said  abruptly  to  the  Ratn- 
blin'  Kid. 

There  was  a  general  pause  for  the  answer.  Caro- 
lyn June  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  and 
looked  curiously  at  the  Ramblin'  Kid.  He  took  his 
time  to  reply. 

"Because  I  wanted  to J"  was  the  slow  unsatisfac- 
tory retort. 


YOU'LL  GET  YOUR  WISH  177 

"Why  didn't  you  wait  till  to-day,  so  the  rest  of  us 
could  see  how  she  acted?"  Charley  asked. 

"What  do  you  think  you  are" — he  started  to  say 
' — "a  bunch  of  lawyers  cross-examinin'  a  witness  ?" 
thought  better  of  it  and  with  a  careless  laugh 
answered :  "If  you're  huntin'  entertainment,  why 
don't  you  go  up  to  Eagle  Butte  to  th'  picture  show?, 
Th'  maverick  an'  me  ain't  no  exhibition !" 

"Did  she  buck  ?"  Charley  continued,  ignoring  the 
sarcastic  remark. 

"Some,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  drawled. 

"What  you  going  to  do  with  the  filly  while  we're 
out  on  the  beef  hunt?"  Chuck  queried,  wishing  to 
keep  the  conversation  general. 

"Ride  her !"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"Ain't  you  afraid  she'll  break  away  from  the 
cdballero  and  you'll  lose  her  again?"  Charley  asked. 

"When  I  ain't  usin'  her  I'll  'neck'  her  to  Captain 
Jack,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  answered  patiently,  refer- 
ring to  the  method  of  fastening  a  wild  horse  to  one 
that  is  gentle  and  prevent  its  running  away,  by  at- 
taching a  short  length  of  rope  to  the  neck  of  each. 
"I  don't  believe  she'd  leave  th'  stallion  anyhow !" 

"By  golly,"  Chuck  said  earnestly  and  half-plead- 
ingly,  "I  wish  you'd  put  her  against  that  Y-Bar  out- 
fit's Thunderbolt  horse  in  the  two-mile  sweepstakes 
this  year!  It  would  be — " 

"Fun  to  see  her  run!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  inter- 
rupted, looking  up  quickly  and  straight  into  the  eyes 


178  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

of  Carolyn  June  as  he  finished  the  contemptuous  quo- 
tation of  her  words,  spoken  the  day  before  at  the 
corral.  She  flushed,  but  gazed  back  at  him  without 
flinching.  "Well,"  he  continued,  "I  reckon  you'll 
get  your  wish — th'  maverick  is  goin'  to  run  against 
th'  Vermejo  horse!" 

"The  Fourth  of  July  is  a  week  from  next 
Wednesday,"  Charley  said  calculatingly.  "The 
Rodeo  starts  on  Tuesday,  the  roping  and  bucking 
finals  come  on  Thursday.  That  makes  the  big  race 
come  Friday — a  week  from  next  Friday,  ain't  it?" 

"That's  right,"  Bert  concurred.  "Th'  Ramblin' 
Kid's  got  nearly  two  weeks  to  get  the  maverick  in 
shape." 

"Nothing  will  be  in  shape  for  anything,"  Old 
Heck  broke  in,  getting  up  from  the  table,  "unless 
we  move  around  and  get  things  ready  to  begin  the 
beef  round-up  to-morrow  morning.  Some  of  you 
boys  will  have  to  bring  in  those  saddle  horses  from 
across  the  river.  Each  one  of  you  can  ride  your 
regular  'string'  this  year" — alluding  to  the  term 
used  to  designate  the  group  of  several  horses  used 
exclusively  by  each  individual  rider  working  on  a 
round-up.  "Skinny  won't  be  with  you,  but  you'd 
better  take  his  horses  along  for  extras.  Parker  can 
be  getting  the  grub-wagon  in  shape — I  reckon  you'll 
have  to  work  Old  Tom  and  Baldy  on  it.  Sing  Pete 
ought  to  be  able  to  handle  them." 

"Where  do  we  start  in?"  Charley  asked  as  they 
went  toward  the  barn. 


YOU'LL  GET  YOUR  WISH  179 

"Over  in  the  Battle  Ridge  country/'  Old  Heck 
answered,  "and  work  everything  east  of  the  big 
pasture  first.  It'll  take  just  about  a  week  to  clean 
up  that  side — it's  pretty  rough  riding  over  there. 
Then  you  can  finish  the  west  end  after  the  Rodeo 
is  over." 

"What  all  you  aiming  to  gather?"  Bert  queried. 

"Everything  above  a  three-year-old,"  Old  Heck 
replied  in  a  businesslike  way;  "pick  up  the  dry  cows, 
too,  if  they're  fat  enough.  Prices  are  better  than 
usual  and  I  want  to  sell  pretty  close  on  account  of 
that  storm  knocking  the  hay  the  way  it  did  the  other 
night.  There'll  be  three  hundred  and  fifty  or  four 
hundred  good  beef  critters  on  the  east  range.  You 
ought  to  have  them  bunched  and  in  the  big  pasture 
by  Saturday  night.  Then,  until  the  Rodeo  is  over 
you  can  all  do  what  you  darn'  please — " 

"I  know  what  I'm  going  to  do,"  Chuck  laughed. 

"What?"  Bert  asked. 

"Draw  all  my  wages,  borrow  all  I  can,  and  make 
a  clean-up  on  that  Y-Bar  outfit  on  the  race  between 
the  Gold  Dust  maverick  and  Thunderbolt!"  he  ex- 
claimed vindictively. 

"Probably  there  will  be  some  of  the  rest  of  us 
have  a  little  Quarter  Circle  KT  money  up  on  that 
race,  too,"  Charley  insinuated. 

"I  know  blamed  well  there  will  be!"  Old  Heck 
added  earnestly  as  they  scattered  to  go  about  their 
respective  employments. 

It  was  a  busy  Sunday  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 


180  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Chuck,  Charley  and  Pedro  spent  the  morning  and 
most  of  the  afternoon  getting  the  saddle  horses 
from  across  the  river.  Bert  helped  Parker  and  Old 
Heck  about  the  ranch.  Sing  Pete  baked  a  supply  of 
light-bread  and  stocked  the  grub-wagon  with  pro- 
visions. The  Ramblin'  Kid  volunteered  to  "ride- 
line"  on  the  big  pasture  and  see  that  the  Diamond 
Bar  steers  had  not  broken  out  again.  He  rode  a  sor- 
rel colt — one  that  had  had  its  "first-riding"  in  the 
circular  corral  the  day  before  Carolyn  June  and 
Ophelia  arrived  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  When 
he  came  to  the  corner  of  the  pasture  where  the 
bodies  of  the  cattle,  killed  by  lightning,  lay,  a  flock 
of  buzzards  were  tearing  at  the  carcasses.  As  the 
gorged  creatures  flapped  heavily  into  the  air  the 
young  broncho  wheeled,  and  bucking  frantically, 
bolted  away  from  the  gruesome  scene.  The  Ram- 
blin' Kid  forced  the  animal  to  turn  about  and  made 
him  pass,  rearing  and  plunging,  among  the  skinless 
and  already  decaying  forms.  Before  sundown  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  was  back  at  the  ranch. 

In  the  afternoon  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  went 
for  a  ride  down  the  valley.  It  was  her  first  oppor- 
tunity to  try  the  new  saddle.  Skinny  was  mounted 
on  Old  Pie  Face  and  Carolyn  June  rode  Browny,  a 
dependable  old  cow-horse. 

"Gee,"  Carolyn  June  remarked  as  they  passed  the 
circular  corral.  "I'd  like  to  ride  the  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick with  this  outfit !" 

"It  would  be  a  dandy  combination,"  Skinny  said 


YOU'LL  GET  YOUR  WISH  181 

admiringly,  "but  I  doubt  if  anybody  but  th'  Ram- 
blin'  Kid  will  ever  be  able  to  ride  the  filly.  So  far, 
she  acts  like  she's  going  to  be  a  worse  one-man  horse 
than  Captain  Jack  is.  She  tried  to  kill  me  yesterday 
when  I  went  into  the  corral  I" 

"What  makes  her  that  way?"  Carolyn  June  asked. 

"Blamed  if  I  know,"  Skinny  replied,  "some 
horses  are  naturally  like  that.  Th'  Ramblin'  Kid 
says  it  ain't  in  the  horse — it's  in  the  human.  If  the 
human  don't  understand  the  horse  the  horse  won't 
trust  the  human  and  where  there  ain't  trust  there's 
fear  and  where  there's  fear  there's  hate.  He's  got 
some  funny  ideas !" 

"Sounds  sort  of  sensible,  though,  doesn't  it?" 
Carolyn  June  said  musingly. 

"Maybe  it  does,"  Skinny  retorted,  "but  he  goes  a 
little  too  far  with  his  fool  notions  sometimes,  it 
seems  to  me." 

"How  is  that?"  Carolyn  June  questioned. 

"Well,  for  one  thing,"  Skinny  replied,  "he  says 
any  man  or  woman  a  horse  don't  trust  ain't  a  good 
man  or  woman  for  a  human  to  depend  on — says  . 
they  ain't  right  inside!  It  looks  to  me  like  that's  a 
pretty  hard  slam  on  people  just  because  some  darned 
idiot  of  a  broncho  won't  make  up  with  them !" 

Carolyn  June  leaned  back  in  the  saddle  and 
laughed. 

"Some  'range  philosopher' — this  Ramblin'  Kid 
person !"  she  exclaimed  lightly.  "Where  did  he  come 
from  and  who  is  he,  anyway  ?" 


182  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Nobody  knows,"  Skinny  answered;  "he  just 
kind  of  growed  up,  here  in  the  Southwest.  I've 
heard  that  his  mother  died  when  he  was  born  and 
his  father  was  a  preacher  or  something  doing  mis- 
sionary work — I  reckon  that's  what  you'd  call  it — 
among  the  Mexicans  and  Indians  and  got  the  small- 
pox while  he  was  nursing  them  through  an  epidemic 
and  it  killed  him,  which  left  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  an 
orphan  when  he  wasn't  much  more  than  a  baby.  The 
Mexicans  or  Indians  took  care  of  him  till  he  was  old 
enough  to  ride  and  then  he  began  to  ramble  around 
and  has  always  kept  it  up  just  as  if  he  was  hunting 
for  something — " 

"How  interesting!"  Carolyn  June  exclaimed,  "al- 
most like  a  story !" 

"It  is  kind  of  unusual,"  Skinny  continued,  "of 
course  it  may  not  all  be  true,  but  one  thing  is  sure — • 
th'  Ramblin'  Kid  seems  to  have  some  sort  of  fasci- 
nation for  the  Greasers  and  the  Indians;  they  all 
worship  him,  and  he's  a  witch  when  it  comes  to 
handling  horses !" 

"He  seems  to  be,"  Carolyn  June  commented 
thoughtfully. 

"Yes,"  Skinny  answered,  "look  how  that  Gold 
Dust  maverick  has  made  right  up  with  him — I  don't 
believe  she  ever  will  have  anything  to  do  with  any- 
body else!" 

Carolyn  June  laughed  softly  to  herself.  She  did 
not  tell  Skinny  of  her  visits  to  the  circular  corral 


YOU'LL  GET  YOUR  WISH  183 

and  that  the  outlaw  mare  already  had  accepted  her 
as  a  good  friend. 

She  and  Skinny  loafed  idly  as  far  down  the  valley 
as  the  Narrows,  and  when  Sing  Pete  sounded  the 
supper  gong  they  were  again  back  at  the  house. 

After  the  evening  meal  the  cowboys  hung  around 
the  house  for  a  while  until  a  suggestive  look  from 
Old  Heck  caused  them  reluctantly  to  follow  him  to 
the  bunk-house,  leaving  Parker  and  Skinny  with 
Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June. 

It  was  the  foreman's  last  evening  with  the  widow 
before  the  beef  round-up.  She  was  rather  diffident 
and  held  him  in  safe  channels  of  conversation. 
Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  sat  on  the  porch  until  it 
was  quite  dark,  then  went  into  the  house.  She 
drummed  carelessly  and  lightly  on  the  keys  of  the 
piano — her  thoughts  evidently  far  away.  Parker 
and  Skinny  left  the  house  early.  At  the  door  the 
foreman  whispered  to  the  widow : 

"Don't  forget  what  I  spoke  about  coming  out 
from  town !" 

Ophelia  flushed  and  murmured,  "No,  indeed, 
but — "  she  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  She  was 
about  to  say,  "don't  build  false  hopes !" 

When  Parker  and  Skinny  entered  the  bunk-house 
Old  Heck  and  all  the  cowboys  except  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  were  asleep.  He  was  half-reclining  on  his  bed, 
smoking.  At  the  entrance  of  Skinny  and  Parker  he 
got  up  and  without  speaking  strolled  outside  and 


1*4  '  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

through  the  darkness  toward  the  circular  corral. 
The  night  was  warm  and  the  stuffy  air  of  the  bunk- 
house,  together  with  the  noisy  snoring  of  Old  Heck, 
made  him  restless.  He  stood  a  few  moments  look- 
ing at  Captain  Jack  and  the  Gold  Dust  maverick. 
Then,  moving  back  into  the  shed,  dropped  down  and 
laid  with  his  shoulders  and  head  on  his  saddle,  which 
was  thrown  on  the  ground  under  the  shelter.  The 
side  of  the  building,  next  to  the  corral,  was  open 
and  the  Ramblin'  Kid  could  see,  from  where  he  was 
lying,  the  dark  bulks  of  the  two  horses  at  the  far- 
ther side  of  the  corral. 

Ophelia  went  directly  to  bed  after  Skinny  ancj 
Parker  left. 

Carolyn  June  sat  for  a  while  in  the  Morris  chair 
in  the  large  room.  She  seemed  abstracted  and  in  a 
mood  for  meditation.  The  vague  history  Skinny 
had  given  her  of  the  life  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid  inter- 
ested her.  She  thought  it  explained  a  good  many 
of  his  elemental  impulses  and  idiosyncrasies.  He 
was  a  creature  of  the  plains.  In  his  life  among  the 
Indians  and  Mexicans  he  had  absorbed  their  stoical 
ways  and  almost  brutal  directness,  yet,  sometimes  he 
showed  a  sensitiveness  that  was  utterly  impossible 
for  Carolyn  June  to  understand.  Her  thoughts 
turned  to  the  Gold  Dust  maverick.  To-morrow  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  would  take  the  filly  away  for  the 
round-up.  She  truly  loved  the  beautiful  mare.  She 
would  slip  out,  while  the  others  slept,  and  have  one 
more  visit  with  the  splendid  creature.  Rising,  Caro- 


YOU'LL  GET  YOUR  WISH          185 

fyn  June  passed  out  through  the  kitchen,  stopped  for 
a  handful  of  sugar — she  had  learned  where  Sing 
Pete  kept  the  can — and  bareheaded  and  without  a 
wrap  walked  swiftly  out  to  the  circular  corral. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  heard  Carolyn  June  step  up  to 
the  gate  of  the  corral  and  from  the  heavy  shadow 
in  which  he  lay  saw  the  light  dress  and  instinctively 
recognized  this  late  visitor  to  Captain  Jack  and  the 
Gold  Dust  maverick.  His  first  impulse  was  to  call 
out  and  warn  her  to  keep  away  from  the  horses — 
that  both  were  dangerous  for  men  to  fool  with, 
much  less  was  it  safe  for  a  woman  to  undertake 
familiarities  with  them.  His  next  thought  was  that 
his  sudden  appearance  would  only  startle  the  girl 
and — well,  cause  a  lot  of  useless  talk.  He  remained 
quiet. 

A  low  trill  came  from  the  throat  of  Carolyn  June, 
The  two  horses  stopped  feeding  and  looked  around! 
toward  the  gate.  The  bird-like  call  was  repeated^ 
The  Ramblin'  Kid  was  astonished  to  see  Captain 
Jack  and  the  outlaw  mare  move  eagerly  in  the  direc- 
tion from  whence  the  sound  had  come.  He  heard 
Carolyn  June  talking  to  the  bronchos  in  soft  endear- 
ing tones.  After  a  moment  she  opened  the  gate  and 
stepped  inside  the  corral. 

"Well,  I'll  be  -    - !"  he  breathed  inaudibly. 

For  half  an  hour  Carolyn  June  petted  the  little 
stallion  and  the  Gold  Dust  maverick.  Both  animals 
seemed  hungry  for  her  caresses. 

"Oh,  your  darling — you  wonder!"  the  Ramblin* 


186  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Kid  heard  Carolyn  June  say,  as  she  gave  the  maver- 
ick's head  a  tight  squeeze  just  before  running  lightly 
back  to  the  house.  "I  hope  you  beat  that  old  Y-Bar 
horse  so  bad  he'll  never  want  to  run  again!  Even 
if  that  Ramblin'  Kid  lover  of  yours,"  she  added 
softly,  "does  think  I'm  nothing  but  a  silly  woman- 
thing  and  hates  me  with  all  his  queer,  lonesome 
heart!" 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  ex- 
claimed when  she  was  gone. 

He  raised  himself  on  one  elbow  and  lay  thus  for 
a  long  time  silently  thinking. 

At  last  ne  got  up,  went  to  the  corral  gate,  and  he 
himself  stepped  inside  with  the  horses.  He  gave 
Captain  Jack's  ear  a  loving  twitch,  then  turned  to 
the  Gold  Dust  maverick.  She  permitted  him,  with- 
out protest,  to  fondle  her  head  and  neck.  His  hand 
lingered  long  on  the  silky  mane  in  which,  a  little 
while  before,  Carolyn  June  had  twined  her  fingers. 

"Oh,  Queen  of  th'  Range!"  he  said  with  a  low- 
laugh,  unconsciously  using  the  poetical  phrase,  as  he 
gave  the  warm  cheek  of  the  filly  a  tender  parting 
pinch  before  turning  away  to  go  to  the  bunk-house, 
"we'll  whip  that  devil-horse  of  th'  Vermejo — we'll 
show  that  Thunderbolt  runner  what  hearts  that  ain't 
d  an'  nimble  hoofs  can  do!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  ELITE  AMUSEMENT  PARLOR 

J\N  HOUR  after  breakfast,  on  Monday  morning, 
jL\.  Old  Heck,  Ophelia,  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June 
were  alone  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  Parker  and 
the  cowboys  were  climbing  out  on,  the  sand-hills 
north  of  the  Cimarron,  traveling  in  the  direction  of 
Battle  Ridge,  where  the  beef  hunt  was  to  begin. 

The  circular  corral  was  empty. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  was  riding  the  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick. Captain  Jack  was  with  the  saddle  horses 
which  Pedro,  the  Mexican,  had  wrangled  on  ahead 
of  the  other  riders  an  hour  before. 

The  filly  made  no  effort  to  throw  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  on  this  her  second  riding.  She  seemed  per- 
fectly willing  to  carry  the  burden  on  her  back.  Caro- 
lyn June  watched  the  beautiful  mare  as  she  stepped 
lightly  and  daintily  along  beside  the  other  horses, 
and  when  the  group  disappeared  among  the  rolling 
ridges  across  the  river  the  ranch  someway  seemed 
deserted  and  she  felt  strangely  alone,  although 
Ophelia,  Old  Heck  and  Skinny  were  standing  at  her 
side. 

Sing  Pete  followed  the  riders,  jolting  along  in  the 
grub-wagon,  awkwardly  driving,  with  much  cluck- 

187 


»188  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

ing  and  pidgin-English,  Old  Tom  and  Baldy  hitched 
to  the  heavy,  canvas-covered  vehicle  with  its  "box- 
kitchen"  and  mess-board  protruding  gawkily  out 
from  the  rear. 

Old  Heck  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  There  was  a 
feeling  of  serene  peace  in  his  heart,  now  that  Parker 
and  the  cowboys  were  safely  away  on  the  round-up. 
In  Skinny's  heart  the  feeling  was  echoed. 

For  a  week  or  more  they  would  be  able  to  love 
Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June  without  the  constant  fear 
of  interruption. 

Only  one  thing  troubled  Old  Heck.  The  widow 
had  not  yet  exposed  her  hand  in  that  suffragette 
movement  or  whatever  it  was.  He  dreaded  the  form 
in  which  it  might,  sooner  or  later,  break  out.  But 
at  that  he  would  be  glad  to  have  it  over.  At  present 
he  felt  as  though  he  were  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a 
volcano,  or  above  an  unexploded  blast  of  dynamite 
at  the  bottom  of  a  well.  Meanwhile  he  would  have 
to  wait  and  watch — and  hope  for  the  best. 

The  week  that  followed  was  heaven  and  hell, 
mixed  together,  for  Old  Heck  and  Skinny. 

The  women  were  lovely  and  lovable  to  the  last 
degree,  but  cautious  and  tormentingly  self-restrained 
when  it  came  to  loving.  At  the  first  intimation  of 
dangerous  sentimentality  on  the  part  of  Old  Heck 
the  widow  would  suddenly  and  without  an  instant's 
warning  change  the  subject.  When  Skinny  had  been 
pensive  and  silent  for  half  an  hour  or  so  and  would 
then  start,  in  a  halting  and  quivering  voice,  to  say 


ELITE  AMUSEMENT  PARLOR       189 

something,  Carolyn  June  invariably  interrupted  with 
a  remark  about  the  weather,  the  Gold  Dust  maver- 
ick, the  Ramblin'  Kid,  Old  Heck,  Sing  Pete,  the 
yellow  cat,  the  coming  Rodeo,  Ophelia  or  something 
else. 

They  paired  on  the  work  of  preparing  the  meals, 
Carolyn  June  and  Skinny  and  Ophelia  and  Old  Heck 
taking  shift  and  shift  about  in  the  kitchen.  In  this 
way  the  work  was  made  a  joke,  with  friendly  ri- 
valry between  the  couples  in  the  preparation  of 
tasty  dishes. 

Old  Heck  and  Skinny  surprised  the  women  with 
their  knowledge  of  cooking.  Nor  was  there  the  least 
embarrassment  on  the  part  of  either  when,  with  one 
of  Sing  Pete's  aprons  tied  about  his  waist,  he 
worked  at  the  range  or  kitchen  table.  As  a  matter 
of  course  every  cow-man  must  know  something  of 
how  to  cook  a  meal  and,  also,  naturally  and  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  Old  Heck  and  Skinny,  without  the 
slightest  thought  that  it  was  "womanish"  or  beneath 
the  "dignity"  of  men,  peeled  potatoes,  fried  meat, 
washed  dishes  or  did  whatever  there  was  to  do. 

Indeed  each  was  proud  of  his  skill. 

Ophelia  herself  was  clever,  particularly  at  making 
biscuits  and  dainty  salads. 

Carolyn  June's  sole  accomplishment  in  the  art  of 
preparing  food  was  the  making  of  coffee-jelly.  This 
she  had  learned  at  college — taught,  perhaps,  by  the 
other  girls  during  stolen  midnight  frolics.  Probably 
this,  also,  was  the  reason  she  usually  made  it  the 


190  JHE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

last  thing  at  night  before  Skinny  and  Old  Heck  left 
to  go  to  the  bunk-house.  Coffee- jelly  was  the  regu- 
lar, inevitable,  evening  meal  dessert  for  the  entire 
week. 

"It  ain't  so  very  filling,"  Skinny  remarked  the 
first  time  he  tasted  the  delicate  dish,  "but  it's  tender 
and  has  a  dandy  flavor!" 

Carolyn  June  blushed  at  the  compliment 

"It  is  pretty  good,"  Old  Heck  agreed,  "but  these 
biscuits  Ophelia  made  are  just  what  was  needed  to 
set  it  off!" 

The  widow  smilingly  showed  her  pleasure! 

Twice  during  the  week  Skinny  rode  "line"  on  the 
big  pasture  to  look  after  the  Diamond  Bar  steers. 
Carolyn  June  accompanied  him.  Each  time  she  rode 
Browny,  the  old  cow-horse.  On  these  days  Old 
Heck  and  Ophelia,  in  the  Clagstone  "Six/'  drove 
to  Eagle  Butte.  The  second  trip  to  town  Ophelia 
asked  to  be  left  at  the  minister's  house.  Old  Heck 
was  to  call  in  an  hour  and  get  her.  During  the  hour 
he  slipped  into  the  dentist's  and  had  his  teeth 
cleaned.  When  the  tobacco-blackened  tartar  was 
scraped  away  they  were  surprisingly  white  and 
even.  He  stopped  at  the  drug  store  and  bought  a 
tooth-brush  and  a  tube  of  paste. 

Ophelia  noticed  the  wonderful  improvement  in 
his  appearance,  guessed  the  reason,  and  the  thought 
sent  a  warm  thrill  through  her  body. 

"Like  a  big  boy,"  she  laughed  to  herself,  "when 
he  begins  to  wash  his  neck  and  ears !" 


ELITE  AMUSEMENT  PARLOR       191 

"It  ain't  healthy  to  have  your  teeth  so  dirty,"  Old 
Heck  explained,  coloring  and  in  an  apologizing  man- 
ner, when  Skinny  discovered  him,  after  supper  that 
evening,  carefully  scrubbing  his  molars. 

Skinny  watched  the  performance,  saw  the  result, 
and  murmured : 

"Guess  I'll  get  me  one  of  them  layouts !" 

On  Friday  the  quartette  went  to  Eagle  Butte,  Old 
Heck  driving,  with  Ophelia  beside  him,  and  Carolyn 
June  and  Skinny  in  the  rear  seat  of  the  Clagstone 
"Six." 

It  was  on  this  trip,  while  Ophelia  and  Carolyn 
June  were  in  the  Golden  Rule  doing  some  shopping, 
that  Old  Heck  and  Skinny  strolled  into  the  Elite 
Amusement  Parlor.  Lafe  Dorsey,  owner  of  the 
Y-Bar  outfit  and  to  whom  belonged  the  black  Thun- 
derbolt horse;  Newt  Johnson,  Dave  Stover  and 
"Flip"  Williams — the  latter  three  cowboys  on  the 
big  Vermejo  ranch — were  playing  a  four-handed 
game  of  billiards  at  one  of  the  tables  near  the  front 
of  the  place. 

Dorsey  noticed  the  entrance  of  the  pair  from  the 
Quarter  Circle  KT.  All  were  range  men  and  were 
well  known  to  one  another.  The  Y-Bar  owner  had 
been  drinking.  Boot-leg  liquor  was  obtainable,  if 
one  knew  how  and  where,  in  Eagle  Butte. 

"Hello,  there,  Old  Heck!"  Dorsey  greeted  them 
hilariously  and  with  a  half-leer.  "Howdy,  Skinny! 
How's  the  Cimarron?  Don't  reckon  you've  taught 
Old  Quicksilver  to  run  yet,  have  you  ?"  with  a  bois- 


192  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

terous  laugh  as  he  referred  to  the  race  in  which 
Thunderbolt  had  defeated  Old  Heck's  crack  stallion. 

The  taunt  stung  Old  Heck  while  it  called  out  a 
-suppressed  snicker  from  the  cowboys  who  were 
with  Dorsey  and  the  loafers  in  the  pool-room.  The 
t>ull-like  guffaw  of  Mike  Sabota,  the  gorilla-built, 
^half-Greek  proprietor  of  the  Amusement  Parlor 
roared  out  above  the  ripple  of  laughter  from  the 
others.  The  racing  feud  between  the  Y-Bar  and  the 
Quarter  Circle  KT  was  well  known  to  all  and  Sa- 
bota himself  had  cleaned  up  a  neat  sum  when  the 
black  horse  from  the  Vermejo  had  outstepped  the 
runner  from  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 

Old  Heck  reddened  at  Dorsey's  words  but  replied 
quietly : 

"The  Cimarron  is  middling — just  middlin'.  No, 
we  ain't  been  paying  much  attention  to  teaching 
horses  how  to  run  lately.  Old  Quicksilver's  pretty 
fair.  Of  course  he  ain't  the  best  horse  in  the  world 
but  he'll  do  for  cows  and  general  knocking  around. 
Horses  are  a  good  deal  like  men,  you  know,  Dor- 
sey— there's  always  one  that's  a  little  bit  better!" 

The  Vermejo  cow-man  colored  at  the  thrust. 

"Any  of  you  Quarter  Circle  KT  fellers  going  in 
on  anything  at  the  Rodeo,  this  year?"  one  of  the 
Y-Bar  riders  asked  Skinny  before  Dorsey  could 
reply. 

"Charley  said  he  might  go  in  on  the  'bull-dogging' 
and  Bert  is  figuring  some  on  the  bucking  events — 
but  I  dtin't  reckon  they'll  either  one  enter,"  Skinny 


ELITE  AMUSEMENT  PARLOR       193 

answered  carelessly;  "both  of  them  got  first  money 
in  them  entries  last  year  and  they  ain't  caring  much. 
The  Mexican,"  referring  to  Pedro,  "will  probably 
do  some  roping — " 

"What  about  you  and  th'  Ramblin'  Kid?"  Flip 
Williams  interrupted,  "ain't  neither  of  you  going 
to  take  part?" 

"Probably  not,"  Skinny  drawled.  "I  ain't  aiming 
to,  and  I  don't  know  what  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  is  fig- 
uring on.  He  ain't  much  for  showing  off.  He  only 
rode  in  the  bucking  contest  last  year  because  after 
that  Cyclone  horse  killed  Dick  Stanley  everybody 
said  there  wasn't  any  one  that  could  ride  him  and 
the  blamed  little  fool  just  wanted  to  demonstrate 
that  there  was.  You  never  can  tell  what  he'll  do, 
though.  He  may  be  intending  to  go  in  on  something 
or  other." 

"Guess  you  people  ain't  got  anything  out  there  for 
the  two-mile  sweepstakes  this  year,  have  you?" 
Dorsey  broke  in  with  a  sneer.  "Old  Thunderbolt's 
too  much  for  them  sand-hill  jumpers  from  the 
Cimarron." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  as  he  is,"  Old  Heck  said  in  a 
voice  emotionless  as  an  Indian's.  "The  Quarter 
Circle  KT  will  probably  be  represented  in  the  big 
event.  It  seems  to  me  I  heard  Chuck  mention  enter- 
ing that  Silver  Tip  colt  of  his  and,  let's  see,  I  be- 
lieve th'  Ramblin'  Kid  said  something  about  running 
a  new  filly  he's  been  riding  some,  didn't  he, 
Skinny?" 


194  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Since  I  come  to  think  of  it  I  believe  he  did," 
Skinny  answered  as  if  it  were  a  matter  without 
especial  interest;  "if  I  remember  right  he  did  speak 
something  of  it  a  day  or  two  ago." 

"Well,  bring  'em  on!"  Dorsey  exclaimed  boast- 
fully, "the  Y-Bar  will  take  all  the  money  you  Kiowa 
fellers  feel  like  contributing!  Old  Thunderbolt's 
as  fit  as  a  new  rawhide  rope  and  is  just  aching  to 
rake  in  another  three  or  four  thousand  of  Quarter 
Circle  KT  diner o  if  you  people  have  got  the  nerve 
to  back  your  judgment !" 

There  was  a  dead  hush  as  the  crowd  in  the  pool- 
room waited  for  Old  Heck's  reply  to  Dorsey's 
drunken  challenge. 

"We'll  kind  of  remember  that  invitation,  Dorsey," 
Old  Heck  said  in  tones  as  hard  and  smooth  and  cold 
as  ice,  while  his  gray  eyes  narrowed  and  bored  the 
boastful  cow-man  like  points  of  steel,  "we'll  sort 
of  bear  in  mind  that  suggestion  of  yours.  The 
Quarter  Circle  KT  will  send  a  horse  into  the  big 
race  that  will  beat  that  Thunderbolt  critter  of  yours 
just  three  times  as  bad  as  he  set  old  Quicksilver 
back — and  we'll  give  you  action  on  any  amount  of 
money,  cattle  or  anything  else  you  want  to  name! 
You  can  put  your  friends  here  in  on  it  too,  if  you 
want  to — "  with  a  scornful  glance  around  the  pool- 
room at  the  loafers  in  the  place.  "Come  on, 
Skinny,"  he  added  as  he  started  toward  the  door, 
"more  than  likely  Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June  are 
through  with  their  trading  and  ready  to  go  home." 


ELITE  AMUSEMENT  PARLOR       195 

All  stood  silent  until  Skinny  and  Old  Heck  stepped 
out  of  the  door,  then  Mike  Sabota  broke  into  a 
coarse,  taunting  laugh.  As  they  turned  up  the  street 
Old  Heck  and  Skinny  heard  Dorsey  and  the  crowd 
inside  join  in  the  merriment. 

"Damn  that  fool,  Dorsey!"  Old  Heck  exclaimed 
viciously,  as  he  heard  the  shouts  of  derisive  laugh- 
ter. "I'm  going  to  wipe  him  out  on  that  race — if 
he's  got  the  guts  to  come  across  and  back  up  that 
Thunderbolt  horse  as  hard  as  he  blows  about  him  1" 

"I  think  I'll  hook  Sabota  for  a  few  hundred  on 
the  sweepstakes,  myself,"  Skinny  replied  with  a 
good  deal  of  feeling,  "I  don't  like  the  way  that  dirty 
cuss  acts  any  better  than  I  like  Dorsey's  bragging!" 

Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia  were  waiting  when  Old 
Heck  and  Skinny  arrived  at  the  Golden  Rule. 

When  the  Clagstone  "Six"  whirled  past  the 
Amusement  Parlor  a  few  moments  later  Dorsey  and 
Sabota  were  standing  in  the  door. 

Carolyn  June  glanced  at  them. 

"Heavens,"  she  said  as  her  eyes  rested  an  instant 
on  the  burly,  low-browed,  Greek  proprietor  of  the 
place,  "what  a  big  brute  of  a  looking  fellow  that  is!" 

The  two  men  stared  insolently  at  the  occupants 
of  the  car  and  as  it  passed  Sabota  made  some  re- 
mark, evidently  vulgar,  that  caused  Dorsey  to  burst 
into  another  round  of  coarse  laughter. 

Old  Heck  was  moody  during  the  drive  home. 

For  nearly  two  years  Dorsey  had  been  crowing 
because  of  the  defeat  of  Quicksilver  by  the  black 


196  ;THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

racer  from  the  Vermejo.  It  was  becoming  more! 
than  idle  jesting.  It  looked  as  if,  for  some  reason, 
he  was  trying  to  torment  Old  Heck  until  something 
serious  was  started.  Old  Heck  was  a  good  loser 
but  he  was  growing  tired  of  the  persistent  nagging. 
He  had  not  whimpered  at  the  loss  of  the  twenty-five 
hundred  dollars  Dorsey  won  from  him  on  the  race. 
Even  the  humiliation  of  seeing  his  best  horse  put  in 
second  place  by  the  Y-Bar  animal  had  been  endured 
philosophically  and  without  malice  because  he  be- 
lieved the  thing  had  been  run  square  and  the  faster 
horse  had  won.  But  Dorsey  on  every  occasion  since 
had,  drunk  or  sober,  boasted  of  Thunderbolt's  vic- 
tory and  taken  a  devilish  delight  in  rubbing  it  in  on 
the  owner  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 

To-day  the  Vermejo  cattleman  had  been  worse 
than  usual,  due,  no  doubt,  to  the  rotten  boot-leg 
whisky  the  brute-like  proprietor  of  Eagle  Butte's 
rather  disreputable  Amusement  Parlor  was  sup- 
posed secretly  to  dispense  to  those  who  had  the  price 
and  the  "honor"  to  keep  sacred  the  source  of  supply. 

Old  Heck  was  sore  and  he  was  ready  to  go  the 
limit  in  backing  the  Gold  Dust  maverick.  Both  he 
and  Skinny  had  purposely  refrained  from  mention- 
ing the  horse  the  Ramblin'  Kid  would  enter.  The 
fame  of  the  outlaw  filly  extended  throughout  all  of 
southwestern  Texas  and  if  the  Vermejo  crowd  had 
learned  that  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had  finally  caught 
her  and  was  intending  to  put  her  against  Thunder- 
bolt it  was  doubtiul  if  the  black  horse  would  be  en- 


ELITE  AMUSEMENT  PARLOK      197 

itered  at  all  in  the  sweepstakes.  Even  if  he  was, 
Dorsey  and  his  crowd  would  be  shy  of  the  betting. 

This  was  one  reason  Old  Heck  had  so  played  the 
•conversation  that  Dorsey  definitely  threw  down  the 
challenge  and  which  was  so  coldly  accepted. 

The  Vermejo  cow-man  would  have  to  come  hi 
heavy  on  the  betting  or  be  placed  in  the  role  of  a 
bluffer. 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  ranch  Old  Heck's 
good  humor  was  restored.  He  thoroughly  enjoyed 
the  supper  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  prepared  and 
joked  the  girl  about  her  coffee- jelly. 

"She's  learning  how  to  make  French  toast,  now," 
Skinny  said  proudly;  "it  won't  be  long  till  she's  a 
darned  good  cook !" 

"Why  not  ?"  Carolyn  June  laughed.  "See  who  I 
have  to  teach  me!"  and  Skinny  flushed  while  his 
heart  hammered  joyously. 

"Well,  I  reckon  anybody  could  live  on  fried  bread 
and  coffee-jelly  in  a  pinch,"  Old  Heck  joked  back, 
"but  for  my  part  I'd  be  a  good  deal  happier  to  mix 
a  biscuit  or  two  like  Ophelia  makes  once  in  a  while 
in  with  it" — giving  the  widow  a  worshipful  look. 

It  was  Ophelia's  turn  to  register  pleasurable  con- 
fusion. 

After  supper  Old  Heck  and  the  widow  washed  the 
dishes.  When  they  were  finished  Ophelia  went  into 
the  front  room.  Old  Heck  took  a  glass  of  water, 
stepped  out  of  the  kitchen  door,  and  diligently 
scrubbed  his  teeth.  While  he  was  still  at  it  Skinny 


198  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

came  out  with  a  dipper  in  his  hand  and  sheepishly 
drawing  a  tooth-brush  from  his  hip  pocket  faith- 
fully imitated  the  actions  of  the  other. 

"I  figure  a  man's  taking  a  lot  of  chances  if  he 
don't  keep  his  teeth  clean  and  everything,"  Skinny 
spluttered  as  the  water  splashed  down  his  chin. 

"Yes,  that's  right,"  Old  Heck  agreed,  "there's 
germs  and  so  on  in  them !"  as  he  flipped  the  water 
from  his  own  brush,  dried  his  lips  on  his  shirt- 
sleeve and  turned  back  into  the  kitchen. 

The  next  morning,  Saturday,  Old  Heck  came  to 
the  breakfast  table  again  in  a  pensive  mood. 

"I  was  thinking  about  that  man  Dorsey,"  Skinny 
remarked,  observing  Old  Heck's  mental  depression 
and  attributing  it  to  the  meeting  the  day  before  in 
the  pool-room  at  Eagle  Butte.  "Do  you  reckon  the 
filly  can  really  beat  that  Thunderbolt  horse  ?" 

"Of  course  she  can,"  Old  Heck  answered.  "Th" 
^Ramblin'  Kid  knows.  All  I'm  afraid  is  that  when 
Dorsey  finds  out  it's  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  Thun- 
derbolt has  got  to  go  up  against  he  won't  bet  much 
on  it." 

"The  boys  ought  to  be  in  to-day,"  Skinny  said, 
abruptly  switching  the  subject;  "they  figured  on 
getting  the  Battle  Ridge  cattle  gathered  and  in  the 
big  pasture  by  to-night,  didn't  they?" 

"Yes,"  Old  Heck  replied,  "that  was  what  was  in 
my  mind.  Parker  will  be — "  he  stopped  suddenly, 
"butting  in  again"  he  had  started  to  say  but  caught 
himself  and  finished  lamely,  " — probably  pretty 


ELITE  AMUSEMENT  PARLOR       199 

anxious  to  hurry  through  as  soon  as  possible  and 
get  the  beef  animals  in  the  upland  pasture!" 

"How  are  you  going  to  work  things  when  he  gets 
back?"  Skinny  asked  with  a  significant  look  at  Old 
Heck. 

"Blamed  if  I  know — "  Old  Heck  said  uncertainly, 
stopping  before  he  finished  the  sentence.  He  under- 
stood what  Skinny  meant  and  just  that  had  been 
worrying  him.  He  had  reached  the  point  where  he 
could  not  endure  the  thought  of  going  back  to  the 
old  arrangement  of  day  and  day  about  with  Parker 
in  the  enjoyment  of  the  widow's  society.  Yet  if  Par- 
ker, on  his  return,  insisted  on  dividing  Ophelia's 
time  with  him  in  conformity  with  their  original 
agreement,  Old  Heck  knew  he  would  have  to  yield. 
He  thought  for  a  moment  he  would  get  the  widow 
away  from  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  after  break- 
fast and  make  a  full  confession  of  the  whole  thing, 
ask  her  to  marry  him,  and  have  it  done  with.  But 
he  had  not  yet  been  able  to  get  at  the  bottom  of 
Ophelia's  suffragette  activities.  What  if  she  mar- 
ried him  and  then  suddenly  broke  loose  as  a  speech- 
maker  or  something  for  woman's  rights?  It 
wouldn't  pay  to  take  the  risk.  "It  sure  does  keep 
a  man  guessing!"  he  murmured  under  his  breath, 
the  sweat  starting  to  bead  his  forehead  from  the 
mental  effort  to  solve  the  problem  before  him. 

Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia  exchanged  sly  winks 
as  they  guessed  the  thing  that  was  in  Old  Heck's 
mind. 


200  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Skinny,  himself,  was  a  bit  worried  as  the  time 
drew  near  for  the  return  of  the  cowboys.  He  hoped 
Carolyn  June  wouldn't  spring  another  dance  or  simi- 
lar opportunity  for  indiscriminate  love-making. 

Nor  had  Carolyn  June  forgotten  that  to-day  was 
Saturday  and  Parker  and  the  cowboys  were  ex- 
pected back  from  the  first  half  of  the  beef  round-up. 
The  week  had  been  pleasant  enough  but  she  had 
missed  the  Ramblin'  Kid  and  the  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick more  than  she  cared  to  confess.  She  won- 
dered if  the  outlaw  filly  would  remember  her. 

Saturday  was  a  day  of  considerable  tension  for 
all  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  Night  came  and  Par- 
ker and  the  cowboys  had  not  returned.  Nor  did 
they  come  on  Sunday.  Evidently  the  beef  round-up 
had  gone  more  slowly  than  was  expected. 

It  was  late  Monday  afternoon  when  the  grut>- 
wagon  grumbled  and  creaked  its  way  up  the  lane 
and  stopped  near  the  back-yard  gate.  Sing  Pete 
climbed  clumsily  down  from  the  high  seat.  Old 
Heck  and  Skinny  unhitched  Old  Tom  and  Baldy 
while  the  Chinese  cook  chattered  information  about 
Parker,  the  cowboys  and  the  round-up.  He  had  left 
the  North  Springs  early  that  morning.  Two  nights 
before  the  herd  had  run — it  was  a  stampede — some 
sheep  had  been  where  the  cattle  were  bedded.  Maybe 
that  was  it.  Chuck  and  Bert  were  on  night  guard 
and  could  not  hold  them.  The  steers  mixed  badly 
with  the  rangers.  Nearly  two  days  it  took  to  gather 
them  again.  That  was  why  they  were  late.  Now 


ELITE  AMUSEMENT  PARLOK      201 

everything  was  all  right.  The  cattle  were  being 
driven  to  the  big  pasture.  Pedro  would  be  along 
soon  with  the  saddle  cavallard.  By  dark  maybe 
the  others  would  be  at  the  ranch. 

It  was  midnight  before  Parker  and  the  cowboys 
came  in. 

When  Carolyn  June  stepped  out  on  the  porch 
Tuesday  morning  she  glanced  toward  the  circular 
corral,  which  for  more  than  a  week  had  been  empty. 
Her  heart  gave  a  leap  of  delight. 

Captain  Jack  was  standing  at  the  bars  of  the  cor- 
ral and  behind  him  the  early  sunlight  glinted  on  the. 
chestnut  sides  of  the  Gold  Dust  maverick. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE  GRAND  PARADE 

EAGLE  BUTTE  was  a  jam  of  humanity.  It  was 
Tuesday  noon.  At  one  o'clock  the  Grand  Pa- 
rade would  circle  the  mi1?  track  at  the  "Grounds" — 
a  hundred  level  acres  enclosed  by  a  high  board  fence 
lying  at  the  west  edge  of  Eagle  Butte,  between  the 
Cimarron  River  and  the  road  that  led  out  to  the 
Vermejo — swing  down  the  main  street  of  the  town, 
return  again  to  the  enclosed  area,  flow  once  more 
past  the  grandstand,  salute  the  judges  of  the  coming 
events,  and  the  Fifth  Annual  Independence  Rodeo 
of  Eagle  Butte  would  be  officially  opened. 

Special  excursion  rates  had  brought  thousands 
from  all  parts  of  western  Texas,  New  Mexico  and 
Colorado.  Hundreds  of  tourists,  sight-seeing  the 
West,  had  so  arranged  their  itineraries  that  they 
might  be  present  at  the  big  exhibition  of  riding, 
roping,  racing,  bull-dogging  and  other  cow-country 
arts, — arts  rapidly  becoming  mere  memories  of  a 
day  too  quickly  passing. 

Moving-picture  machine  operators  were  seeking 
advantageous  locations  for  their  outfits ;  pedestrians 
dodged,  indiscriminately,  high-powered  automobiles 

202 


JHE  GRAND  PARADE  203 

and  plunging  bronchos;  the  old  and  the  new  were 
slapped  together  in  an  incongruous  jumble  in  the 
streets  of  Eagle  Butte. 

The  best  range  men  and  women  of  the  West  were 
gathered  in  the  western  Texas  town. 

New  Mexico,  Arizona,  Idaho,  Colorado,  Wyom- 
ing, Montana,  Oregon,  Texas  herself,  were  repre- 
sented by  their  most  famous  riders,  ropers,  bull- 
doggers,  cow-experts,  and  noted  outlaw  horses. 

There  were  many  masqueraders. 

Imitation  cow-people,  they  were,  made  up  in 
fancy  wild-west  costumes,  long-haired  chaps,  mam- 
moth black  sombreros,  gaudy  neck-cloths,  silver- 
spangled  saddles,  spurs  and  bridles — typical  mov- 
ing-picture cowboys,  cowgirls  and  rough  riders. 
But  there  were,  as  well,  hundreds  of  real  range 
people.  People  whose  business  it  is  to  work  every 
day  at  the  "stunts"  they  were,  for  the  next  five 
days,  to  play  at  for  the  pleasure  of  proving  their 
skill  and  winning  the  applause  of  the  multitude  of 
spectators  packed  each  day  in  the  grandstand  behind 
the  judges'  box  at  the  Eagle  Butte  Rodeo. 

Every  outfit  in  western  Texas  sent  its  most  clever 
riders. 

Indians  and  Mexicans,  m  picturesque  attire,  sprin- 
kled the  milling  mass  of  humanity  with  a  dash  of 
rainbow  color. 

Dance-halls  were  running,  faro  layouts  were  op- 
erating, roulette  wheels  were  spinning.  For  the 
time,  with  the  consent  of  the  sheriff  and  other  re- 


364  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

iormed  authorities,  Eagle  Butte  tried  hard  to  be  as 
Eigle  Butte  was  twenty — thirty — years  ago. 

The  entire  Quarter  Circle  KT  crowd  left  the 
ranch  early  Tuesday  morning.  Parker  had  sur- 
prised Old  Heck,  and  filled  his  mind  with  misgiv- 
ings, by  calling  him  to  one  side  after  breakfast  and 
stammering: 

"I — I — reckon  you'd  just  as  well  go  ahead  the 
rest  of  this  week  and — and — look  after  the  widow 
by  yourself — " 

"What's  the  matter?"  Old  Heck  asked  suspi- 
ciously; "have  you  found  out  anything  dangerous 
about  that  'Movement'  or  whatever  it  is  Ophelia's 
mixed  up  in?" 

"No,  it  ain't  that,"  Parker  assured  him,  "I  just 
thought  I'd  kind  of — well,  like  to  be  free  to  knock 
around  at  the  Rodeo  without  being  bothered  with  a 
woman  or  anything." 

The  truth  was  Parker  was  trying  to  hedge.  When 
he  had  got  away  on  the  beef  hunt  and  began  to  fig- 
ure things  out  he  had  come  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of 
his  sudden  infatuation  for  the  widow.  Thinking  it 
over,  out  on  the  open  range,  he  was  appalled  by  his 
rash,  headlong  falling  in  love.  He  had  never  mar- 
ried, nor  had  he,  until  Ophelia  came,  been  even 
near  it.  Someway,  the  moment  Carolyn  June  and 
the  widow  arrived  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  some 
sort  of  devil  seemed  to  possess  him.  He  couldn't 
explain  it.  Maybe  it  had  been  just  an  impulse  to  get 
ahead  of  Old  Heck.  Whatever  it  was,  Parker  was 


THE  GRAND  PARADE  205 

Worried.  What  would  he  do  witli  a  wife  if  he 
had  one?  All  he  wanted  now  was  to  let  the  thing 
blow  over.  Perhaps  the  widow  would  forget  his 
impetuous  proposal  cr  fall  in  love  with  Old  Heck. 

Old  Heck,  1  :s  heart  filled  with  a  queer  mixture  of 
elation  and  uncertainty — with  a  sort  of  joy  and 
sinking  sensation  all  at  once — agreed  to  Parker's 
suggestion. 

Parker  rode  into  Eagle  Butte  with  the  cowboys. 
Old  Heck,  Ophelia,  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  went 
in  the  Clagstone  "Six."  Chuck  led  Old  Pie  Face 
for  Skinny  to  ride  in  the  parade  and  Bert  took  Red 
John,  Old  Heck's  most  showy  saddle  horse — a  long- 
legged,  high-stepping,  proud-headed,  bay  gelding — * 
for  Carolyn  June  to  use,  for  she,  too,  had  declared 
her  intention  of  joining  in  the  grand  promenade 
with  which  the  Rodeo  would  open. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  left  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  in 
the  circular  corral  and  rode  Captain  Jack  to  Eagle 
Butte.  It  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  register  the 
filly,  with  the  entry  judges,  on  the  first  day  of  the 
Rodeo  if  she  was  to  run  in  the  two-mile  sweep- 
stakes. 

The  rules  of  the  Rodeo  required,  also,  that  all 
who  expected  to  participate  in  any  of  the  events  of 
the  coming  week  must  "show"  in  the  grand  march 
or  parade.  The  animals  that  were  to  be  used  might 
also  be  paraded,  but  this  was  not  compulsory. 

Accompanied  by  Chuck,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  weat 
directly  to  the  entry  offices  of  the  Rodeo,  whidi 


206  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

were  roughly  boxed-up  compartments  under  the 
rear  of  the  grandstand. 

A  group  of  "hot-dog"  vendors  and  "concession 
spielers"  looked  curiously  at  the  two  as  they  left 
Captain  Jack  and  Silver  Tip,  with  bridle  reins 
dropped  over  their  heads,  standing  in  front  of  the 
office  and  stepped  inside. 

Lafe  Dorsey  and  Flip  Williams  were  at  the  clerk's 
desk. 

The  Vermejo  cattleman  had  just  registered  Thun- 
derbolt, with  Flip  as  rider,  for  the  big  race. 

They  looked  around  as  the  Ramblin'  Kid  and 
Chuck  came  in. 

"Well,  is  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  getting  up  sand 
enough  to  go  against  old  Thunderbolt  again  ?"  Dor- 
sey asked  with  a  curl  of  his  lip  and  an  ugly  sneer. 

"Oh,  I  reckon  we've  got  a  little  nerve  left,"  Chuck 
answered  with  mock  humility,  "not  much,  but  a  lit- 
tle, maybe.  I  was  going  to  put  Silver  Tip  in  the 
sweepstakes,"  he  went  on,  "but  I  guess  I  won't.  Th' 
Ramblin'  Kid's  got  an  entry  and  it  looks  like  a 
darned  shame  for  one  outfit  to  want  to  hog  it  all 
and  grab  first  and  second  money  both,  so  I'll  stay 
out  this  time." 

''You  talk  pretty  loud,"  Dorsey  snarled,  catching 
instantly,  as  Chuck  intended  he  should,  the  covert 
slur  at  the  black  Y-Bar  stallion.  "Maybe  your 
money  won't  make  so  damned  much  noise !" 

"Here's  a  couple  hundred,"  Chuck  said,  pulling  a 
roll  of  bills  from  his  shirt  pocket.  "I'll  invest  that 


THE  GRAND  PARADE  207 

much  on  my  judgment  that  Thunderbolt  ain't  as 
good  as  you  think  he  is." 

"I'll  take  it !"  Dorsey  snapped,  jerking  a  wad  of 
money  from  his  own  pocket  and  counting  out  the 
amount  which  he  handed  to  the  clerk  as  stake- 
holder. "And  here's  another  hundred — or  a  thou- 
sand if  you  want  it !" 

"That  two  hundred  is  about  all  I  can  handle  this 
morning,"  Chuck  laughed.  "But  I  understand  Old 
Heck's  aiming  to  bet  a  little,"  he  drawled  sugges- 
tively ;  "probably  you'd  like  to  see  him  ?" 

"I'll  see  him — and  raise  him  till  he  squeals !" 
Dorsey  sneered. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  ignored  the  tilt  between  Dor- 
sey and  Chuck  and  leaned  indifferently  against  the 
counter  waiting  for  the  clerk  to  fill  out  the  entry 
blank. 

"Event?"  the  clerk  questioned. 

"Two-mile  run,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

"Rider — and  horse?"  glancing  up. 

Dorsey  and  Flip  paused  and  turned  their  heads  to 
catch  the  names  the  Ramblin'  Kid  gave. 

"I'm  the  rider,  I  reckon,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  re- 
plied, "I  guess  you  know  who  I  am.  Th'  name  of 
th'  horse?  Well,  now  ain't  that  funny?"  he  said 
with  a  little  laugh,  "I  never  have  bothered  to  name 
that  critter  yet!  But — oh,  hell,  what's  the  differ- 
ence ?  We'll  just  call  her  'Ophelia'  for  th'  time  bein' 
— in  honor  of  a  lady-widow  that's  visitin'  out  at  th" 
ranch!" 


,208  JHE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"The  Quarter  Circle  KT's  getting  to  be  quite  a 
female  institution,  ain't  it?"  Dorsey  said  contemptu- 
ously. "I  suppose  this  wonder  horse  of  yours  is  one 
of  the  ranch  fillies  and  regular  lightning !" 

For  a  second  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  eyes  narrowed, 
then  he  replied  coldly  to  the  last  half  of  Dorsey's 
sentence: 

"Well,  th'  filly's  been  runnin'  in  that  neighbor- 
hood an'  " — with  a  laugh  that  hr.d  in  it  just  the  hint 
O.f  a  sneer — "she's  pr:tty  fair — good  enough,  I  fig- 
lire,  to  beat  hell  out  of  old  Thr.ndr-bolt!" 

"Are  you  backing  that  with  money?"  Dorsey  and 
Plip  spohe  together. 

"No,"  the  Ramblin'  K'd  answei  jd  slowly,  "money 
.ain't  no  obj  ^ct  with  me  in  a  horse-race.  I  don't  run 
*em  for  that  purpose.  Anyhow,  poker  is  my  favorite 
method  of  gamblin' !" 

Dorsey  and  Flip  whirled  angrily  out  of  the  office 
and  \valkcd  rapidly  toward  the  stables  where  they 
hac.  left  their  horses. 

After  rcservit; j  a  box  stall,  which  was  to  be  occu- 
pied by  Captain  Jack  and  the  Gold  Dust  maverick, 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  and  Chuck  left  the  entry  office 
and  mounting  their  bronchos  rode  toward  the  sec- 
tion of  the  grounds,  over  by  the  stables,  where  the 
parade  was  already  forming. 

As  they  passed  through  the  entrance  to  the  track 
and  the  inside  field  which  lay  beyond  Chuck  and  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  rode  within  a  few  feet  of  the  Clag- 
stone  "Six,"  which  was  parked  near  the  east  end 


THE  GRAND  PARADE  209 

of  the  grandstand.  Old  Heck  and  Ophelia  were  in 
the  front  seat  of  the  car  watching  the  riders  assem- 
ble for  the  parade.  Carolyn  June  was  standing  on 
the  running-board  writing  for  Skinny  to  come  with 
Old  Pie  Face  and  Red  John,  the  boys  hav:ng  left 
the  horses  at  the  stables. 

Carolyn  June  looked  up  with  a  bright  smile  at 
Chuck.  As  her  eyes  met  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  there 
was  a  question  in  them.  She  was  not  sure  yet  that 
she  had  forgiven  him  for  the  brutal  rebuff  the  night 
of  the  da- ice.  If  there  was  any  feeling  in  his  heart, 
either  of  resentment  or  otherwise,  toward  the  girl 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  hid  it.  The  look  he  gave  her  was 
one  of  unfathomable  humility  and  indifference. 

Chuck  wheeled  Silver  Tip  to  the  side  of  the  car 
and  stopped.  His  eyes  were  filled  with  frank  ad- 
miration as  he  gaze*1,  at  the  'girl.  Her  cheeks  were 
flushed  with  exci'.  iment,  her  white  felt  hat  sat 
jauntily  on  the  crown  of  brown  hrtr,  her  eyes  were 
sparkling  and  in  the  close-fitting  riding  suit  she  was 
the  picture. of  youthful  charm  and  grace.  The  Ram- 
blin' Kid  nodded  to  Old  Heck,  glanced  at  Ophelia 
with  a  smile,  looked  steadily  an  instant  at  Carolyn 
June  and  raising  his  hat  to  the  two  women  passed 
on  with  the  remark :  "I  reckon  I'll  go  on  over  an' 
see  what  they're  doinV* 

"Has  he  entered  the  outlaw  filly  for  the  sweep- 
stakes, yet?"  Old  Heck  asked  Chuck  as  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid  reined  Captain  Jack  down  the  race  track, 

"Yes,"  Chuck  answered,  "he  signed  her  up." 


210  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Did  he  name  her  as  the  Gold  Dust  maverick?" 
Old  Heck  inquired  anxiously. 

"No,"  Chuck  grinned,  "he  called  her  'Ophelia !' " 

Old  Heck  leaned  back  in  the  seat  and  roared  with 
laughter  in  which  Carolyn  June  and  the  widow  joined. 

"Dorsey  was  there,"  Chuck  said  with  another  grin, 
"he'd  just  finished  entering  Thunderbolt  for  the  big 
race  when  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  and  me  got  to  the  reg- 
istering office.  I  bet  him  two  hundred  dollars.  He 
was  bragging  a  good  deal — " 

Old  Heck's  eyes  flashed  and  the  mirth  left  them. 

"He  was  blowing,  was  he?"  he  said  with  a  hard 
laugh,  "the  damn — darned  fool!"  he  corrected,  re- 
membering Ophelia  at  his  side.  "Well,  'egg'  him  on 
— the  higher  he  flies  the  worse  he'll  flop  when  he 
bu'sts  s  wing!"  t 

In  the  parade  Skinny  rode  with  Carolyn  June. 
Parker  and  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  cowboys  were 
in  a  group  directly  behind  them.  The  Vermejo 
crowd,  with  Dorsey  himself  mounted  on  Thunder- 
bolt, had  a  place  just  ahead  of  Skinny  and  Carolyn 
June.  The  beautiful  black  Y-Bar  stallion  was  really 
a  wonderful  horse.  Speed,  strength  and  endurance 
radiated  with  every  movement  of  the  glossy,  subtle 
body.  Without  doubt  he  was  the  most  handsome 
animal  on  the  grounds.  Dorsey  was  a  splendid  rider 
and  a  man — he  was  in  the  early  forties — of  striking 
appearance.  He  was  fully  conscious  of  the  mag- 
nificent showing  he  made  on  Thunderbolt.  The 


THE  GRAND  PARADE  211 

racer  'danced  proudly,  prancing  forward  in  short, 
graceful  leaps  as  the  column  swept  past  the  grand- 
stand and  the  consolidated  Eagle  Butte  and  Vegas 
bands  crashed  out  the  strains  of  a  stirring  march. 
A  ripple  of  applause  ran  over  the  crowd  in  the 
grandstand  as  Dorsey,  at  the  head  of  the  Vermejo 
cowboys,  rode  by  the  judges'  box.  He  lifted  his 
sombrero  and  waved  it  in  pleased  acknowledgment. 

The  Ramblin*  Kid  was  in  line  a  little  distance 
behind  Carolyn  June,  Skinny  and  the  Quarter  Circle 
KT  cowboys.  He  rode  alone  just  back  of  a  quar- 
tette of  Indians  from  down  on  the  Chickasaw. 

His  plain  rigging,  the  slick,  smoothly  worn, 
leather  chaps,  the  undecorated  saddle,  bridle  and 
spurs,  his  entire  work-a-day  outfit  contrasted  vididly 
with  the  gaudy  get-up  of  most  of  the  other  riders. 
Captain  Jack  moved  along  easily  and  freAy,  but 
quietly,  and  with  an  air  of  utter  boredom  with  all 
the  show  and  confusion  about  him.  The  Ramblin' 
Kid's  attitude,  whole  appearance,  matched  perfectly 
the  mood  of  his  horse.  He  sat  loosely  in  the  saddle 
and  carelessly  smoked  a  cigarette.  The  truth  was 
his  mind  wras  far  from  the  pageant  of  which  he 
and  the  little  stallion  were  a  part.  He  scarcely  heard 
the  music  nor  did  he  seem  to  see  the  thousands  of 
human  beings,  packed  tier  above  tier,  under  the 
mammoth  roof  of  the  grandstand.  His  thoughts 
were  at  the  upper  crossing  of  the  treacherous  Ci- 
l  marron,  out  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT;  he  was  see- 
ing again,  Carolyn  June,  as  she  looked  up  into  his 


212  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

eyes  when  he  dragged  her  out  of  the  quicksand — he 
was  hearing,  once  more,  her  cry  of  agony  as  the 
bullet  from  his  gun  buried  itself  in  the  brain  of 
Old  Blue. 

Louder  hand-clapping,  stamping  of  feet,  and  call- 
ing voices,  than  any  that  had  sounded  before,  rolled 
out  from  the  grandstand  as  the  lone  rider,  on  the 
quiet,  unexcited  little  roan,  came  down  the  stretch 
in  front  of  the  great  crowd. 

Carolyn  June  looked  back,  saw  the  waving  hats 
and  handkerchiefs,  heard  hundreds  of  voices  shout- 
ing: 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid!  Th'  good  old  Ramblin' 
Kid!" 

The  crowd  had  recognized  him  as  the  slender  rider 
who,  a  year  ago,  after  the  untamable  Cyclone  horse 
had  killed  Dick  Stanley  before  their  eyes  and  in 
front  of  where  they  sat,  had  ridden,  straight-up  and 
scratching  him  at  every  jump,  that  vicious,  mur- 
derous-hearted outlaw. 

Carolyn  June's  eyes  moistened  and  she  felt  a  thrill 
of  pride. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  barely  glanced  at  the  sea  of 
faces,  a  faint  smile  hung  for  an  instant  on  his  lips, 
as  he  jerked  his  hand,  the  one  in  which  he  held  the 
cigarette,  to  the  brim  of  his  hat  when  he  came  oppo- 
site the  judges'  stand. 

When  the  parade  swung  down  the  wide,  one- 
sided, main  street  of  Eagle  Butte,   Mike  Sabota,  i 
from  the   door  of   the   Elite  Amusement   Parlor, 


THE  GRAND  PARADE  213 

watched  it  pass.  He  was  standing  there,  by  the  side 
of  the  lanky  marshal  and  surrounded  by  a  group  of 
pool-room  loafers  and  "carnival  sharks"  when  Caro- 
lyn June  and  Skinny  came  by.  She  looked  around 
in  time  to  see  him  staring,  with  a  vulgar  leer,  straight 
into  her  eyes. 

"There  is  that  big,  dirty,  animal-looking  fellow 
we  saw  the  other  day!"  she  said,  with  a  frown  of 
disgust,  to  Skinny.  "He's  horrible — " 

Skinny  glanced  at  Sabota. 

"Yes,  he  is  ornery,"  he  said.  "He  runs  that  joint 
and  boot-legs  on  the  side.  He's  got  a  reputation  as 
a  slugger  and  keeps  the  crowd  around  him  buf- 
faloed. They  say  he  killed  a  feller — beat  him  to 
death — in  a  fight  over  at  Sapulpa  before  he  came 
to  Eagle  Butte.  I  don't  like  the  filthy  cuss.  He's 
mean !" 

"He  looks  it !"  Carolyn  June  exclaimed,  with  the 
uncomfortable  feeling  that  the  big  Greek's  look  had 
touched  her  with  something  vile  and  unclean. 

After  the  parade  disbanded  Carolyn  June  and 
Skinny  rode  back  to  the  car  where  Old  Heck  and 
Ophelia  had  remained. 

"You  made  a  darned  good-looking  cowgirl !"  Old 
Heck  said  proudly  to  her  as  she  stopped  Red  John 
by  the  side  of  the  Clagstone  "Six." 

"She  and  Skinny  both  presented  a  very  fine  ap- 
pearance!" the  widow  added,  while  Carolyn  June 
playfully  blew  a  kiss  at  each  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  compliment.  Skinny  sat  on  Old  Pie  Face  and 


214  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

felt  a  warm  glow  of  satisfaction  at  the  words  of 
Old  Heck  and  Ophelia.  He  had  known  all  the  time 
that  Carolyn  June  and  he  had  shown  up  well,  but 
he  was  glad  to  find  that  others  besides  himself  had 
noticed  it. 

Dorsey,  on  a  black  stallion,  cantered  past. 

A  moment  later  the  Ramblin'  Kid  came  jogging 
off  the  race  course  on  Captain  Jack.  He  threw  up 
his  hand  in  greeting  and  passed  on  out  of  the 
grounds. 

Parked  next  to  the  Clagstone  "Six"  was  a  hand- 
some touring  car,  occupied  by  a  party  consisting 
of  a  girl  about  Carolyn  June's  own  age,  a  woman 
a  few  years  older  and  a  couple  of  immaculately 
dressed  young  men  who  wore  flaring  brimmed 
black  felt  hats  that  contrasted  absurdly  with  their 
expensively  tailored  suits.  Evidently  all  were  "big 
town"  people  from  a  distance — very  "superior"  and 
patronizing  in  their  attitude  toward  the  "natives." 
They  had  been  free  and  voluble  in  their  comments 
on  the  various  riders.  Dorsey,  on  the  magnificent 
Thunderbolt,  drew  a  murmur  of  admiration  from 
the  lips  of  the  girl.  As  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  the  next 
moment,  rode  by  on  Captain  Jack  one  of  the  young 
fellows  said  loudly  and  with  a  laugh  of  ridicule : 

"Look  at  that  one,  Bess,"  addressing  the  girl; 
"there's  the  'wild  and  woolly'  West  for  you !  I'll  bet 
if  that  horse  sneezed  he'd  fall  down  and  the  lone- 
some-looking little  runt  that's  riding  him  would 
tumble  off  and  root  his  nose  in  the  dust !" 


THE  GRAND  PARADE  215 

A  cackle  of  derisive  laughter  greeted  the  cheap 
witticism. 

Before  any  of  the  others  could  speak  Carolyn 
June's  eyes  blazed  with  sudden  wrath.  She  turned 
her  body  in  the  saddle  and  faced  the  speaker,  her 
hands  tightly  clenched,  her  cheeks  white  with  pas- 
sion and  her  lip  curling  wickedly. 

"Which  shows,"  she  said  slowly,  every  word 
stinging  like  the  bite  of  a  whip-lash,  "that  you  are 
running  true  to  form  and  there  is  one  fool,  at  least, 
still  unslaughtered !  That" — she  continued  with  a 
proud  toss  of  her  head — "  'lonesome-looking  little 
runt'  is  the  Ramblin'  Kid!  Not  another  man  in 
Texas  can  ride  the  horse  he  is  on — and  there  is  not 
a  horse  in  Texas  that  he  can't  ride !" 

She  turned  again  toward  the  Quarter  Circle  KT 
group  and  a  shamed  silence  settled  over  the  swell 
"out-of-town"  car. 

Old  Heck  chuckled  with  delight  at  Carolyn  June's 
show  of  temper. 

A  whirlwind  program  of  racing,  roping,  bull- 
dogging — this  event  is  that  in  which  a  rider  springs 
from  a  running  horse,  grasps  by  the  horns  a  wild 
steer  running  at  his  side,  twists  the  animal's  head 
up  and  backward  and  so  throws  it  down  and  then 
holds  the  creature  on  the  ground — rough-riding  and 
other  Rodeo  sports  followed  immediately  after  the 
parade. 

Pedro  and  Charley  Saunders  were  the  only  Quar- 
ter Circle  KT  cowboys  participating  in  the  events  of 


216  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

the  first  day  of  the  Rodeo.  The  Mexican  did  a  fancy 
roping  stunt  in  front  of  the  grandstand  and  finished 
his  exhibition  directly  before  the  Clagstone  "Six" 
in  which  Carolyn  June,  Ophelia,  Old  Heck  and 
Skinny  were  sitting.  At  the  conclusion  of  his  per- 
formance Pedro  bowed  to  the  little  audience  in  the 
car  and  swept  his  sombrero  before  him  with  all  the 
courtly  grace  of  a  great  matador.  Carolyn  June 
generously  applauded  the  dark-skinned  rider  from 
the  Cimarron  and  waved  a  daintily  gloved  hand  in 
acknowledgment  of  his  skill  with  the  rope.  Skinny 
gritted  his  teeth  while  a  pang  of  jealousy  shot 
through  his  heart. 

Charley  took  part  in  the  bull-dogging  event.  He 
drew  a  black  steer,  rangey  built,  heavy  and  wicked. 
When  he  lunged  from  his  horse  on  to  the  horns  of 
the  brute  it  dragged  him  for  a  hundred  feet  before 
he  could  check  its  mad  flight.  At  last  he  slowly 
forced  its  nose  in  the  air  and  with  a  quick  wrench 
of  the  head  to  one  side  threw  its  feet  from  under  it. 
Man  and  beast  went  down  in  a  heap — the  neck  of 
the  steer  across  the  cowboy's  body.  A  groan  went 
up  from  the  crowd  in  the  grandstand  and  Carolyn 
June's  cheeks  paled  with  horror — it  looked  as  if  one 
horn  of  the  creature  had  pierced  Charley's  breast. 
But  it  had  missed  by  the  fraction  of  an  inch. 
Straightening  himself  up  to  a  sitting  posture  the 
cowboy  bent  forward  and  sunk  his  teeth  in  the  upper 
lip  of  the  prostrate  animal  and  threw  up  both  hands 
as  a  signal  to  the  judges  that  the  brute  was  "bull- 


THE  GRAND  PARADE  217 

clogged."  But  the  fight  had  been  too  hard  for  him 
to  win  first  place.  Buck  Wade,  a  lanky  cowpuncher 
from  Montana,  in  three  seconds  less  time,  had 
thrown  a  brindle  Anchor-O  steer  and  taken  first 
money. 

Before  the  sun  dipped  into  the  Costejo  peaks  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  left  the  Rodeo  and  returned  alone 
to  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  He  told  Parker  and  the 
cowboys,  all  of  whom  intended  to  remain  in  Eagle 
Butte  every  night  during  the  Rodeo,  that  he  would 
be  back  in  town  the  next  afternoon  and  bring  with 
him  the  Gold  Dust  maverick.  Word  had  been  passed 
among  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  crowd  to  keep  Dorsey 
and  his  bunch  in  the  dark  as  long  as  possible  re- 
garding the  fact  that  the  filly,  Ophelia,  was  the  fa- 
mous outlaw  mare  of  the  lower  Cimarron. 

After  supper  Parker,  Chuck,  Bert  and  Charley 
drifted  into  the  Elite  Amusement  Parlor.  The  place 
was  crowded.  Mike  Sabota  immediately  singled  out 
the  Quarter  Circle  KT  group  and  began  jollying 
them  about  the  coming  two-mile  sweepstakes.  Dor- 
sey and  Flip  Williams  had  been  in  the  pool-room 
earlier  in  the  evening  and  told  him  of  the  Ramblin' 
Kid's  entry  of  the  filly  against  the  Thunderbolt 
horse. 

Within  ten  minutes  Bert  and  Charley  had  placed 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  each  against  five  hun- 
dred of  Sabota' s  money  that  the  Vermejo  stallion 
would  not  finish  in  first  place  in  the  big  race. 


218  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Old  Judge  Ivory,  who  happened  to  be  present, 
was  agreed  upon  as  stake-holder. 

"That  Thunderbolt  horse,  he  is  the  devil,"  Sabota 
laughed  evilly  as  the  money  was  handed  over  to  the 
gray-haired  judge.  "And  Satan,  he  takes  care  of 
his  own !" 

"Well!"  Parker  "drawled,  "if  you  feel  inclined  to 
send  any  more  money  to  hell  I  might  help  you — " 
pulling  a  wad  of  bills  from  his  pocket  and  throwing 
the  certificates  on  the  soft-drink  bar  at  which  they 
were  standing. 

Sabota' s  eyes  gleamed  greedily. 

"I  think  there's  two  thousand  in  this  roll,"  Parker 
continued,  "and  I'm  willing  to  bet  it  all  that  the 
Ramblin'  Kid's  filly  not  only  goes  under  the  wire 
first  in  the  two-mile  run,  but  that  she'll  be  kicking 
dirt  in  old  Thunderbolt's  face — if  he  ain't  too 
damned  far  behind — when  she  does  it!" 

The  Greek  covered  the  wager  eagerly. 

As  Judge  Ivory  pocketed  the  money  Dorsey  and 
Flip  Williams  stepped  into  the  pool-room.  Sabota 
glanced  up. 

"These  Quarter  Circle  KT  hombres  are  getting 
bad,'"  he  laughed  sneeringly  to  Dorsey;  "they  think 
th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  got  a  colt  that  can  beat  Thunder- 
bolt !" 

"The  Ramblin'  Kid  must  have  a  hell  of  a  fast 
horse!"  Dorsey  snarled  contemptuously,  "a  hell  of 
a  fast  horse !"  he  repeated,  "when  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
himself  declines  to  risk  a  dollar  of  his  own  money 


THE  GRAND  PARADE  219 

on  the  running  qualities  of  the  critter!"  referring  to 
the  conversation  a  few  hours  before  in  the  entry 
judges'  office. 

As  he  finished  speaking  he  turned  and  looked, 
squarely  into  the  cold  gray  eyes  of  Old  Heck  who, 
with  Skinny,  had  entered  the  Amusement  Parlor 
while  Dorsey  was  talking  and  heard  the  Vermejo 
cattleman's  sneering  insinuation. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MOCHA  AND  JAVA 

OLD  HECK  and  Skinny  had  left  Ophelia  and 
Carolyn  June  at  the  Occidental  Hotel,  where 
a  room  was  reserved  by  Old  Heck  for  the  use  of 
the  two  women  during  the  Rodeo.  They  had  then 
gone  direct  to  Mike  Sabota's  place  for  the  express 
purpose  of  running  into  Dorsey  and  his  crowd. 
Old  Heck  knew  that  if  any  large  bets  were  to  be 
laid  on  the  two-mile  sweepstakes  the  only  chance 
would  be  to  place  them  before  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
brought  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  to  Eagle  Butte  and 
the  Vermejo  bunch  discovered  the  identity  of  the 
horse  Thunderbolt  was  up  against. 

The  Quarter  Circle  KT  cow-men  stepped  into 
the  pool-room  at  exactly  the  instant  most  favorable 
for  their  purpose. 

Dorsey  had  made  his  boast  in  the  presence  of  a 
crowd. 

He  would  hardly  dare  back  up  without  covering, 
at  least  to  some  worth-while  extent,  his  words  with 
his  money. 

For  a  full  minute  Old  Heck  drilled  Dorsey  with 
•a  look  such  as  a  hound  dog  might  have  in  his  eyes 

220 


MOCHA  AND  JAVA  221 

after  he  has  cornered  a  coyote  and  pauses  before  he 
springs. 

Instinctively  the  crowd  stepped  back  from  the 
two  cattlemen  while  a  death-like  hush  fell  over  the 
place. 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  don't  need  to  back  the  filly 
with  his  money,  Dorsey,"  Old  Heck  said  -slowly 
and  in  a  voice  audible  in  every  part  of  the  room; 
"I'm  here  to  back  her  with  mine!  You've  c^one  a 
a  lot  of  talking — now,  damn  you,  cover  your  chatter 
with  coin  or  shut  up !"  the  end  of  the  sentence  com- 
ing like  the  crack  of  a  whip. 

With  a  nervous  laugh  the  Vermejo  cattleman 
jerked  a  wallet  from  his  pocket. 

"Here's  a  thousand  that  says  Thunderbolt  does 
the  same  thing  to  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  filly  that  he 
done  to  Quicksilver!"  Dorsey  snapped. 

Old  Heck  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  scorn- 
fully. 

"A  thousand  ?  I  thought  you  were  a  sport,  Dor- 
sey!" he  sneered.  "Match  this,"  he  continued, 
reaching  for  his  check-book  and  fountain  pen  and 
quickly  filling  out  a  check  payable  to  "Cash"  for 
ten  thousand  dollars,  which  he  laid  on  the  hardwood 
bar.  "Match  that,  or  admit  you're  a  cheap,  loud- 
howlin' bluffer!" 

Dorsey  paused  just  an  instant  as  he  noted  the 
amount  of  the  check. 

"I'll  match  it!"  he  exclaimed,  flushing  angrily, 
drawing  his  own  check-book  from  his  pocket,  and 


222  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

then,  carried  away  by  his  passion  added,  throwing 
down  the  bars  completely  as  Old  Heck  had  hoped 
he  would,  "and  go  with  you  to  the  end  of  the  trail !" 

"Good !"  Old  Heck  laughed,  "now  you  are  talking 
like  a  sport!  Let's  see,"  he  added  calculatingly, 
"how  many  Y-Bar  cattle  do  you  figure  you've  got 
running  on  the  Vermejo  range — five  thousand?" 

"There's  that  many,"  Dorsey  started  to  say. 

"Call  it  fifty-five  hundred!"  Old  Heck  flung  at 
him.  "Steer  for  steer,  cow  for  cow,  hoof  for  hoof 
— I'll  put  Quarter  Circle  KT  critters  against  every 
brute  you  own  that  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  lands  his  horse 
under  the  wire  ahead  of  Thunderbolt !" 

Dorsey  paled,  then  a  purple-red  of  fury  spread 
over  his  neck  and  face,  and  with  an  oath  he  cried : 

"I'll  call  you!" 

Bills  of  sale  were  drawn  and  turned  over  to  Judge 
Ivory,  to  be  delivered,  after  the  race,  to  the  winner. 

"Now,"  Old  Heck  said  with  a  hard  laugh,  "maybe 
you'd  like  to  own  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  ranch, 
Dorsey?  It's  worth  twice  as  much  as  your  Vermejo 
holdings  but  I'll  just  give  you  that  percentage  of 
odds  and  call  it  an  even  bet  that  your  black  stallion 
don't  outrun  the  little  animal  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  has 
entered  in  the  sweepstakes !" 

But  Dorsey  did  not  answer  except  with  a  mut- 
tered :  "Hell,  a  man's  crazy  that — "  He  had  gone 
his  limit.  He  had  suddenly  come  to  his  senses  and 
grown  suspicious. 

Before  Skinny  and  Old  Heck  left  the  pool-room 


MOCHA  AND  JAVA  223 

the  former  managed  to  get  a  bet  of  five  hundred  dol- 
lars with  Sabota. 

The  next  afternoon  the  Ramblin'  Kid  rode  into 
Eagle  Butte  on  Captain  Jack.  By  his  side  he  led 
the  Gold  Dust  maverick.  The  noise  and  confusion 
in  the  streets  filled  the  mare  with  nervousness  and 
she  crowded  closely  against  the  little  roan  stallion. 
Before  he  got  the  outlaw  filly  to  the  stables  a  half 
dozen  cowboys  had  recognized  the  Cimarron  mav- 
erick. Within  an  hour  Dorsey  and  Sabota  knew 
the  identity  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  entry  in  the  big 
race  that  was  to  be  run  Friday  afternoon  and  which 
was  the  big  and  closing  event  of  the  Rodeo. 

The  Greek  was  furious. 

Wednesday  night  he  called  "Gyp"  Streetor,  a  car- 
nival tout,  who  had  one  time  been  a  jockey  but  was 
ruled  off  the  track  for  crooked  work  and  was  now 
picking  up  "easies"  at  the  Eagle  Butte  Rodeo,  into 
a  side  room  of  the  Amusement  Parlor. 

For  half  an  hour  the  two  talked  earnestly  and 
furtively. 

"Nothin'  doin' — absolutely  nothin'!"  the  tout 
finally  said  in  reply  to  some  suggestion  of  Sabota's. 
"That  Captain  Jack  horse  would  murder  any  man 
but  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  that  tried  to  get  in  the  stall— 

"Well,  by  hell!"  the  Greek  exclaimed,  clenching 
his  hairy  fists,  while  his  mouth  twitched  with  pas- 
sion, "that  filly's  got  to  be  kept  out  of  the  sweep- 
stakes someway  or  other — " 

"You  can't  get  to  her,  I  tell  you,"  Gyp  said  sul- 


224  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

lenly,  then  with  a  look  of  cunning  suddenly  coming 
into  his  eyes :  "They  say  she's  a  one-man  brute  like 
the  stallion — nobody  can  ride  her  but  th'  Ramblin' 
Kid,"  significantly  looking  at  Sabota.  "If  you 
could — but  he  don't  drink!" 

The  Greek  laughed. 

"There  are  other  ways!"  he  said.  "He  eats, 
don't  he?  Listen:  To-morrow  and  Friday  you 
take  that  'sandwich  and  coffee'  run  at  the  stables — " 
referring  to  the  concession  to  peddle  lunch  stuff 
among  the  horsemen  who  seldom  left  their  charges, 
a  concession  which  Sabota,  with  other  privileges, 
had  purchased  the  right  to  operate.  "Th'  Ramblin' 
Kid  eats  off  the  trays — it  will  be  your  business  to 
see  that  he  ain't  feeling  veil  when  the  sweepstakes 
is  called!  I'll  gzt  t.ie  *j  ills'  for  you  to-night — " 

"No  killin',  Sabota !"  Gyp  warned. 

"Just  enough  to  put  him  out  for  an  hour  or  two !" 
the  Greek  answered. 

Wednesday  night  the  Ramblin'  Kid  slept  in  the 
stall  with  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  and  Captain  Jack. 
Thursday  he  remained  clcse  to  the  hor::s.  Thurs- 
day night  he  again  slept  on  a  pile  of  hay  in  one  cor- 
ner of  the  box-compartment.  Under  no  circum- 
stances would  he  leave  the  animals.  Occasionally 
Parker  or  some  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  cowboys 
came  down  to  the  stables. 

Each  night  Old  Heck  and  Skinny,  with  Carolyn 
June  and  Ophelia,  after  the  evening  program  was 


MOCHA  AND  JAVA  225 

concluded,  drove  out  to  the  ranch  in  the  Clagstone 
"Six,"  returning  early  the  following  day. 

Friday  forenoon  Old  Heck  drove  the  car  down 
to  the  stall  in  which  Captain  Jack  and  the  Gold  Dust 
maverick  were  confined.  The  two  horses  were 
standing,  side  by  side,  with  their  heads  out  of  the 
door,  the  upper  half  of  which  was  swung  back.  The 
Ramblin'  Kid  leaned  against  the  door  at  the  side  of 
the  horses. 

To  Carolyn  June  he  looked  tired  and  worn. 

"How's  the  filly?"  Old  Heck  asked,  as  the  out- 
law mare  sprang  back  away  from  the  door  when  the 
car  stopped. 

"She's  all  right" 

"Hadn't  you  ought  to  exercise  her?"  Skinny 
asked. 

"She  don't  need  it,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  replied 
with  a  note  of  weariness  in  his  voice.  "She'll  get 
enough  exercise  this  afternoon!" 

"You're  all  right,  yourself,  are  you?"  Old  Heck 
asked  a  bit  anxiously. 

"Of  course  I'm  all  right,"  was  the  rather  impa- 
tient reply.  "Don't  be  uneasy,"  he  added  with  a 
laugh ;  "— th'  filly'll  be  in  th'  race  an'  beat  old  Thun- 
derbolt!" 

"Good  luck!"  Carolyn  June  cried,  as  Old  Heck 
turned  the  car  about  and  started  back  toward  the 
grandstand. 

"Good  luck !"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  muttered  to  him- 


226  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

self,  watching  the  car  as  it  whirled  away.  "Ign'rant, 
savage,  stupid  brute !"  he  repeated  bitterly,  then  with 
a  queer  smile  in  which  was  a  world  of  tenderness 
he  pulled  the  pink  satin  elastic  garter  he  had  picked 
up  at  the  circular  corral,  from  his  pocket  and  looked 
at  it  long  and  wistfully.  "Good  luck?"  he  exclaimed 
again  questioningly.  "Well,  maybe  that  little  jig- 
ger'll  bring  it !"  and  he  slipped  the  band  back  in  his 
pocket. 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  acts  like  he's  got  the  blues 
this  morning,"  Skinny  said  as  the  Clagstone  "Six" 
rolled  away  from  the  stables.  "He  looks  to  me 
like  a  feller  that's  in  just  the  right  humor  to  get  on 
a  whale  of  a  drunk — " 

"That's  one  thing  about  him  you  can  depend  on," 
Old  Heck  broke  in,  " — he  never  poisons  himself 
with  liquor.  That's  why  when  he  says  he'll  do  any- 
thing you  can  bet  all  you've  got  he'll  do  it !" 

"Well,  if  he  ever  does  break  loose,"  Skinny  re- 
torted, "it'll  be  sudden  and  wild !" 

"Probably,"  Old  Heck  replied  as  though  there 
wasn't  the  slightest  danger  of  such  an  eventuality. 

That  morning  Gyp  purposely  avoided  going  as 
far,  with  his  stock  of  provisions,  as  the  stall  in  which 
were  Captain  Jack  and  the  Gold  Dust  maverick. 
Nor  did  he  come  with  his  lunch  tray  and  tin  pot  of 
coffee  until  nearly  one  o'clock. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  had  no  breakfast.  To  secure 
it  he  would  have  been  required  to  leave  the  horses. 
That  he  would  not  do.  Of  course  he  might  have 


MOCHA  AND  JAVA  227 

told  Old  Heck  or  Skinny  to  bring  or  send  him  some- 
thing, but  he  did  not  feel  inclined  to  mention,  in  the 
presence  of  Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia,  that  he  was 
hungry.  Anyhow,  well,  they  were  having  a  good 
time  and  what  was  the  use  of  bothering  them? 

When  Gyp  finally  came  with  the  lunch  the  Ram- 
Win'  Kid  was  outside  the  stall  and  had  walked  a 
little  way  up  the  stable  street.  Captain  Jack  and  the 
filly  were  in  a  compartment  at  the  end  of  the  string 
of  stalls.  The  one  next  to  it,  back  toward  the  grand- 
stand, was  unoccupied,  and  adjoining  that  was  a  hay 
room.  Gyp  stopped  opposite  the  open  door  of  the 
compartment  in  which  the  bales  of  hay  and  straw 
were  piled.  He  paused  a  moment  and  turned  as  if 
to  go  back. 

"Hold  on  there  1"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  called  to  him. 
"What  you  tryin'  to  do  ?  Starve  me  to  death  ?" 

"D'  last  thing  I'd  want  to  do,  Bo!"  Gyp  laughed 
good-naturedly.  "Did  I  miss  you  this  mornin'? 
Here,  come  inside  where  I  can  set  this  bloomin'  junk 
down  on  a  bale  of  hay  for  a  minute  an'  I'll  fix 
you  up !" 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  followed  Gyp  into  the  stall. 

The  tout  stooped  over,  with  his  back  to  the  other, 
and  slipped  a  capsule  containing  a  white  powder  into 
a  coffee  cup  which  he  filled  quickly  with  the  black 
liquid  from  the  tin  pot  he  carried.  He  handed  the 
cup  to  the  Ramblin'  Kid.  The  latter  took  it  and  sat 
down  on  a  bale  of  hay  lying  opposite.  The  coffee 
was  j«*t  hot  enough  to  melt,  instantly,  the  capsule 


228  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

and  not  too  warm  to  drink  at  once.  The  Ramblin' 
Kid  was  thirsty  as  well  as  hungry.  Lifting  the  cup 
to  his  lips,  while  Gyp,  fumbling  for  a  sandwich, 
watched  him  furtively,  he  drained  it  without  stop- 
ping. 

"That's — what  was  in  that?'"  he  asked,  eying  the 
tout  keenly.  "It  tastes  like — !" 

"Just  good  old  Mocha  an'  Java !"  Gyp  interrupted 
lightly.  "Maybe  it's  a  little  strong.  Here,  take  an- 
other one !"  reaching  for  the  cup. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  started  to  hand  the  cup  to  Gyp 
to  be  refilled — a  queer  numbness  swept  over  him — 
the  cup  fell  from  his  hand — he  swayed — tensed  his 
body  in  an  effort  to  get  up — mumbled  thickly: 

"What  th'— what  th'—  ?" 

The  tout  backed  away  toward  the  door,  crouching 
like  a  cat  ready  to  spring,  his  beady  eyes  half- 
frightened,  watching  the  poison  deaden  the  faculties 
of  the  other.  He  leaped  through  the  door,  glanced 
up  and  down  the  stable  street — deserted  at  that  hour 
except  for  a  few  drowsy  attendants  lounging  it* 
front  of  their  stalls — jerked  the  door  shut,  hooked 
the  open  padlock  through  the  iron  fastenings, 
snapped  its  jaws  together  and  muttered,  as  he  hur- 
ried away: 

"I  guess  that  guy  won't  ride  the  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick in  any  two-mile  sweepstakes  to-day!" 

As  the  door  slammed  shut  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
pitched  forward,  unconscious,  on  the  bale  of  hay. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

% 

THE  SWEEPSTAKES 

THE  Clagstone  "Six"  was  parked,  Friday  after- 
noon, in  its  usual  place  near  the  east  end  of  the 
grandstand  and  close  to  the  entrance  to  the  track. 
Old  Heck  and  Ophelia  were  alone  in  the  car.  Caro- 
lyn June  and  Skinny,  on  Pie  Face  and  Red  John, 
watched  the  afternoon  program  from  the  "inside 
field"  across  the  race  track.  Parker  and  the  Quar- 
ter Circle  KT  cowboys  were  also  mounted  on  their 
horses  and  in  the  field  opposite  the  grandstand. 

Never  had  there  been  such  a  jam  at  a  Rodeo 
held  in  Eagle  Butte. 

The  two-mile  sweepstakes,  itself  the  "cow-man's 
classic"  and  the  great  derby  event  of  western  Texas, 
always  drew  record  crowds  the  day  on  which  it  was 
run. 

This  Friday  the  grandstand  creaked  under  its 
load  of  humanity. 

The  racing  feud  between  the  Quarter  Circle  KT 
and  the  Y-Bar  and  the  thousands  of  dollars  Old 
Heck  and  Dorsey  were  known  to  have  bet  on  their 
respective  favorites  acted  as  tinder  on  the  flame  of 
public  interest  in  the  big  event. 

Thunderbolt  had  a  great  reputation.  Last  year, 
229 


230  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

and  the  year  before,  he  had  mastered  the1  field  of 
runners  put  against  him. 

The  Gold  Dust  maverick — named  in  the  race 
"Ophelia" — was  a  wonder  horse  in  the  minds  of  the 
people  of  western  Texas  who  had  heard  of  the  beau- 
tiful, almost  super-creature,  that  had  tormented, 
with  her  speed  and  endurance,  the  riders  of  the 
Cimarron  and  now  at  last  was  caught,  and  to  be 
ridden  in  the  sweepstakes,  by  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 

At  two-forty  a  special  exhibition  of  "Cossack 
Riding" — participated  in  by  Lute  Larsen,  of  Idaho ; 
Jack  Haines,  from  Texas,  and  Curly  Piper,  a  Colo- 
rado cowboy,  finished  in  front  of  the  grandstand. 

The  announcer  trained  his  megaphone  on  the  vast 
crowd : 

"The  next  event,"  he  bellowed,  "two-mile  sweep- 
stakes! Purse  one  thousand  dollars!  Five  entries! 
Naming  them  in  their  order  from  the  pole :  Thun- 
derbolt, black  Y-Bar  stallion,  Flip  Williams,  rider; 
Say-So,  roan  gelding,  from  the  Pecos  River,  Box-V 
outfit,  Jess  Curtis,  rider;  Ophelia,  Gold  Dust  filly, 
the  Cimarron  outlaw  from  the  Quarter  Circle  KT, 
th'  Ramblin'  Kid,  rider ;  Prince  John,  sorrel  gelding, 
from  Dallas,  Texas,  'Snow'  Johnson,  rider;  Dash- 
Away,  bay  mare,  from  Jackson  Hole,  Wyoming, 
Slim  Tucker,  rider.  Race  called  at  three  o'clock 
sharp!  Horse  failing  to  score  on  the  dot  will  be 
ruled  out !  Range  saddles  to  be  used.  Entries  for 
the  two-mile  sweepstakes  will  show  at  once  on  the 
track!" 


THE  SWEEPSTAKES  231 

Dead  silence  ensued  during  the  announcer's 
drawling  oration. 

It  was  followed  by  the  hum  of  five  thousand 
voices  as  they  chattered  in  eager  expectancy. 

The  band  crashed  out  Dixie  and  a  medley  of 
southern  melodies. 

Chuck  and  Bert  reined  their  bronchos  up  to 
Parker. 

"We're  going  over  and  see  how  th'  Ramblin'  Kid 
is  making  it,"  Chuck  said.  "He  might  need  that 
filly  herded  a  little  to  get  her  through  this  jam." 
And  they  galloped  their  horses  across  the  track 
toward  the  stables. 

Carolyn  June  and  Skinny  decided  to  watch  the 
sweepstakes  from  the  car,  with  Old  Heck  and 
Ophelia.  They  rode  Pie  Face  and  Red  John  over 
to  the  Clagstone  "Six."  Carolyn  June  dismounted 
and  stepped  up  on  the  running-board  of  the  car, 
holding  Red  John  loosely  by  the  bridle  rein. 

"Gee,"  she  laughed,  "but  I'm  nervous !" 

Old  Heck  reached  over  and  patted  her  hand. 

"Wait  till  they  start  to  run  before  you  get  hysteri- 
cal," he  chuckled.  "There'll  be  time  enough  then  for 
excitement!"  One  could  never  have  told,  by  his 
actions,  that  within  the  next  few  moments  he  would 
lose  or  win  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

Chuck  pulled  Silver  Tip  to  a  stop  in  front  of  the 
stall  where  Captain  Jack  and  the  Gold  Dust  maver- 
ick were  standing. 

"They're  getting  ready  for  the  sweepstakes!"  he 


232  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

called,  thinking  the  Ramblin'  Kid  was  in  the  com- 
partment with  the  horses.  "You'd  better  be  putting 
your  rigging  on  the  filly,"  as  he  slid  from  his 
broncho  and  stepped  to  the  door  of  the  stall. 

There  was  no  answer.  He  peered  into  the  half- 
gloom  of  the  place. 

It  was  empty  save  for  the  two  horses. 

"That's  funny  as  thunder,"  he  said,  puzzled,  to 
Bert.  "Where'd  you  reckon  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  is?" 

"Darned  if  I  know — ain't  he  there?"  Bert  an- 
swered, riding  up  so  he  could  look  into  the  door. 

"Look  around  a  little,"  Chuck  said  anxiously. 
"Maybe  he's  just  stepped  away  for  a  minute — 
Hey!"  he  called  to  an  attendant  of  a  stall  a  short 
distance  down  the  stable  street,  "have  you  seen  any- 
thing of  th'  Ramblin'  Kid — the  feller  that  has  these 
horses  ?" 

"Naw,"  was  the  careless  answer,  "I  ain't  seen 
him  for  two  hours." 

"Something  must  be  wrong!"  Chuck  exclaimed. 
"You  stay  here  and  watch!  I'll  go  see  Old  Heck — 
maybe  he  knows  where  he  is." 

"Hell,  yes !"  Bert  said  as  the  other  started  Silver 
Tip  in  a  run  toward  where  the  Clagstone  "Six"  was 
parked.  "He's  got  to  be  found!  Nobody  else  but 
him  can  ride  the  maverick !" 

At  the  car,  before  his  horse  was  fairly  stopped, 
Chuck  leaned  over  and  asked,  tensely : 

"Have  any  of  you  people  seen  th'  Ramblin'  Kid?" 

Old  Heck  straightened  up. 


THE  SWEEPSTAKES  233 

"Ain't  he  at  the  stables?"  he  inquired  uneasily. 
"He  was  there  this  morning — " 

"No,"  Chuck  replied  hurriedly,  "he's  been  gone 
two  hours !" 

"Good  lord,"  Old  Heck  exclaimed,  "he's  got  to  be 
found !  The  race  starts  in  ten  minutes." 

"And  nobody  but  him  can  ride  the  filly !"  Skinny 
interrupted.  "I  wonder  if  he's — "  he  started  to  say 
"drunk,"  but  stopped  as  Carolyn  June  looked  quickly 
at  him.  The  word  was  in  both  their  minds. 

"It  ain't  natural !"  Old  Heck  cried ;  "there  must 
be  something  dirty !  You  boys  go  look  for  him ;  I'll 
keep  my  eyes  open  here!" 

As  Old  Heck  said  "dirty"  the  picture  of  Mike 
Sabota  flashed  into  Carolyn  June's  mind.  Some  in- 
tuition seemed  to  couple,  in  her  inner  consciousness, 
the  big  Greek  with  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  disappear- 
ance. 

The  horses  for  the  two-mile  sweepstakes  were 
already  beginning  to  come  on  to  the  track.  Flip 
Williams  was  walking  Thunderbolt  up  and  down 
in  front  of  the  grandstand,  trying  to  keep  the  high- 
spirited  stallion  quiet  until  time  came  to  mount ;  the 
rider  of  Say-So  was  doing  the  same  thing  with  his 
entry;  Slim  Tucker  was  already  sitting  on  Dash- 
Away,  the  trim  Wyoming  mare  standing  unruffled 
near  the  starting  line,  while  Snow  Johnson,  like 
Tucker,  already  on  his  mount,  was  circling  Prince 
John  in  wide  loops  behind  the  others. 

Carolyn  June  was  stunned  for  a  moment  by  the 


234  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

thought  that  had  come  into  her  mind  when  the  pic- 
ture of  the  burly  Greek  flashed  before  her.  She 
clenched  her  hands  and  her  cheeks  whitened. 

"Come  on,  Skinny!"  she  said  suddenly,  stepping 
off  the  running-board  of  the  car  and  swinging  on 
to  Red  John,  "we'll  go  help  look  for  the  Ramblin' 
Kid!" 

She  whirled  the  big  bay  around  the  end  of  the 
grandstand  and  rode  in  a  fast  gallop  straight  for  the 
box  stall,  Skinny  and  Chuck  following  close  behind 
her.  A  quick  resolution  formed  in  her  mind :  "No- 
body but  the  Ramblin'  Kid  could  ride  the  filly?" 

She  could  ride  the  wicre! 

Even  if  the  Ramblin'  Kid  was  not  found  Sabota 
and  his  crowd  should  not  be  allowed  to  win  by  dirty 
work — if  dirty  work  had  been  done! 

At  the  stall  Carolyn  June  sprang  from  Red  John. 

Bert  was  nervously  walking  about,  calling  occa- 
sionally the  name  of  the  missing  Quarter  Circle 
KT  cowboy. 

"Have  you  found  him?"  Carolyn  June  asked  as 
Skinny  and  Chuck  came  up  behind  her. 

"No,"  Bert  answered  glumly,  "he  ain't  showed 
up  yet !  There  ain't  no  signs  of  him  around  here." 

"What'll  we  do?"  Skinny  asked  excitedly.  "The 
race  is  almost  ready  to  start  and — do  you  reckon 
you  could  ride  the  filly,  Bert?"  he  finished  with  a 
gleam  of  hope. 

"I  doubt  it,  but,  well,  I'll  try  her— if  Captain 
Jack'll  let  me  get  her  out." 


THE  SWEEPSTAKES  235 

"You  boys  keep  back !"  Carolyn  June  interrupted, 
stepping  to  the  door  of  the  stall  and  opening  it, 
"Captain  Jack  knows  me  and — I — I — think  the  filly 
does,  too — I  can  handle  her — "  as  she  stepped  boldly 
inside  the  compartment  with  the  horses. 

"Don't  go  in  there!"  Skinny  cried,  "Car— Caro- 
lyn June,  they'll  kill  you !" 

"You  boys  keep  away !"  she  laughed.  "And  don't 
get  the  horses  nervous !  They  won't  hurt  me !"  she 
answered,  going  ahead  toward  the  animals. 

Captain  Jack  looked  at  her  suspiciously  an  in- 
stant. 

"Jack-Boy — Jack-Boy!"  she  called  with  a  caress 
in  her  voice.  "Careful !  We're  friends !"  The  atti- 
tude of  the  stallion  changed  instantly  and  the  men- 
ace was  gone  from  his  eyes. 

The  Gold  Dust  maverick  heard  the  voice  and  with 
a  friendly  little  nicker  rubbed  her  head  against  the 
outstretched  hand. 

In  a  corner  was  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  saddle,  bridle, 
blanket  and  worn  leather  chaps. 

With  a  light  pat  of  the  outlaw  filly's  cheek  Caro- 
lyn June  turned  and  began  quickly  and  deftly  put- 
ting the  riding  gear  on  the  beautiful  mare. 

For  an  hour  and  a  half  the  Ramblin'  Kid  lay  as 
he  had  fallen  when  he  started  to  hand  the  coffee  cup 
back  to  Gyp.  Breathing  heavily,  his  face  flushed,  he 
was  as  one  in  the  deep  stupor  of  complete  intoxica- 
tion. At  last  he  stirred  uneasily.  An  unconscious 


236  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

groan  came  from  his  lips.  His  eyes  opened.  In 
them  was  a  dazed,  puzzled  look.  Where  was  he? 
He  tried  vainly  to  remember — the  clean  life,  the  iron 
constitution  and  youth — aided  perhaps  by  an  indom- 
itable subconscious  will  protesting  against  this  some- 
thing that  had  happened  to  him — were  throwing 
off  the  effects  of  the  drug  hours  before  an  ordi- 
nary man  would  have  regained  even  a  hint  of  sen- 
sibility. 

He  stood  up — reeling  unsteadily.  He  was  deathly 
sick.  Lightning  flashes  of  pain  throbbed  through 
his  head.  Waves  of  blackness  rolled  before  his  eyes. 
Surges  of  numbness  swept  over  his  legs  and  arms. 
He  tried  hard  to  remember.  There  was  something 
—what  was  it?  Th'— th' — what  th'  hell?—//*'  race! 
That  was  it — th' — th' — th'  sweepstakes!  In  an  in- 
stant the  thought  was  gone.  It  kept  beating  back : 
Th'  sweepstakes — th'  race —  What  time  was  it? 
Had  it  been  run  ?  He  staggered  to  the  door.  It  was 
locked!  His  head  was  bursting.  If  he  could  only 
get  over  the  nausea.  He  felt  his  knees  start  to  give 
way.  No !  No !  My  God,  he  wouldn't  give  up !  He 
— oh,  yes.  Th'  race!  Captain  Jack — no — th' — th' 
— maverick — he  had  to  ride —  He  must  get  out! 
There  was  a — a — window — sometimes  they  had 
them — in  the  back  of  the  stalls.  Maybe  the  hay 
was  over  it.  He  climbed  on  the  bales.  Behind  them 
he  could  see  the  opening.  God,  he  was  weak !  With 
the  sweat  of  terrible  nausea  bursting  from  every 
pore  of  his  body  he  pulled  the  bales  back.  He  fell 


THE  SWEEPSTAKES  237 

over  the  bale  on  which  he  had  been  lying.  One  hand 
brushed  his  hat  which  had  fallen  from  his  head. 
Mechanically,  with  stiff  fingers,  he  picked  it  up  and 
jammed  it  on  again.  Then  he  climbed — crawled — 
over  the  hay  and  pitched  forward  through  the  open- 
ing, in  a  limp  heap,  on  the  ground  outside. 

For  a  moment  he  lost  consciousness  completely 
again:  Th' — th*  race — th'  maverick!  he  mustn't 
forget — 

He  fought  his  way  to  his  feet  and  groped  along 
back  of  the  building — the  stall — which  way  was  it? 
Down  there  ?  No — the  other  way — 

As  Carolyn  June  tightened  the  rear  cinch  on  the 
Gold  Dust  maverick  and  turned  toward  the  door  of 
the  stall  with :  "Look  out,  boys — I'm  coming  out !" 
the  Ramblin'  Kid,  clutching  at  the  side  of  the  build- 
ing, reeled  around  the  corner  of  the  stall.  The  cow- 
boys saw  him.  He  himself  saw  only  black  shapes 
where  their  horses  were. 

"Good  God!"  Skinny  cried,  "he's  drunk!" 

Carolyn  June  heard  Skinny's  exclamation  at  the 
instant  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  catching  at  the  half-open 
door,  almost  fell  into  the  stall.  His  eyes  stared  with 
a  dull,  puzzled,  unrecognizing  vacancy  first  at  Caro- 
lyn June  and  then  the  Gold  Dust  maverick.  "Who 
th'  hell—"  he  mumbed  stiffly.  "What— th'— oh, 
yes — there's  th'  filly — th' — th' — race.  It  must — be 
—time.  Th'  mare's  saddled!  That's— that's— 
funny!  I  can't  remember.  Th'  race — th'  sweep- 
stakes—that's it—" 


238  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Reaching  over  he  jerked  the  reins  from  the  hand 
of  Carolyn  June. 

"Who — who — get  the — "  came  like  the  thick 
growl  of  a  beast  from  his  throat.  "You — you — 
can't  ride— she'll— she'll^-kill—" 

Carolyn  June  shrank  back  as  if  she  had  been 
struck.  She  pressed  her  hands  against  her  cheeks 
and  stepped  away  with  a  look  of  horror  and  disgust 
as  the  Ramblin'  Kid  backed  out  of  the  stall  with 
the  Gold  Dust  maverick.  Outside  he  fumbled  gro- 
tesquely at  the  silky  mane  and  climbed  weakly  into 
the  saddle. 

Chuck  and  Bert  started  toward  him. 

"Get — the — hell — "  he  snarled  as  he  saw  their 
horses — mere  shadow  shapes  they  were  to  him — 
approach. 

"Let  him  alone!"  Skinny  said.  "He's  drunk! 
You'll  just  scare  the  filly  and  make  her  hurt  him !" 

The  boys  let  him  go. 

With  blanched  cheeks  Carolyn  June  mounted  Red 
John  and  with  Skinny,  Bert  and  Chuck,  rode  back 
to  the  Clagstone  "Six."  Her  heart  was  utterly  sick. 
So  this  was  it?  It  had  come  out — the  brute — the 
beast  that  was  in  him ! 

They  reached  the  car  as  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  at  the 
horse  entrance,  at  the  other  end  of  the  grandstand, 
came  on  the  track  with  the  Gold  Dust  maverick. 

Old  Heck  looked  up  when  the  group  approached. 
He  saw  the  agony  in  Carolyn  June's  eyes  and  started 
to  speak. 


THE  SWEEPSTAKES  239 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  drunk,"  Skinny  said  dully. 
"He  showed  up— yonder  he  is—"  as  the  beautiful 
copper-tinted,  chestnut  filly  appeared  behind  the 
other  horses  entered  for  the  two-mile  sweepstakes. 

"Drunk?"  Old  Heck  cried  incredulously.  "Are 
you  sure?" 

"Watch  him !"  Chuck  said  miserably. 

The  starter  was  standing  with  arm  outstretched 
and  flag  ready  to  fall.  The  filly  came  down  the 
track  jumping  nervously  from  side  to  side  in  short 
springing  leaps.  The  starter  paused,  watch  in  hand. 
A  shout  of  admiration  and  wonder  went  up  from 
the  crowd  as  the  splendid  creature  dancing  down 
the  track  was  recognized.  The  next  instant  it  was 
succeeded  by  a  cry  of  horror  that  rolled  in  a  great 
wave  from  a  thousand  throats. 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  is  drunk!  He's  drunk— the 
mare  will  kill  him !"  as  they  saw  the  slim  rider  weav- 
ing limply  in  the  saddle,  his  head  dropped  forward 
as  if  he  were  utterly  helpless. 

"Rule  that  horse-  off  the  track !"  Dorsey,  who  was 
standing  with  Mike  Sabota,  in  a  box-seat  just  below 
the  judges'  stand,  shouted  as  he  saw  the  Ramblin' 
Kid,  even  in  his  half-conscious  condition,  reining 
the  Gold  Dust  maverick  with  consummate  skill  into 
position,  "her  rider's  drunk !" 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  heard  the  voice  and — by  some 
miracle  of  the  mind — recognized  it,  although  his 
eyes,  set  and  glassy,  could  not  see  the  speaker. 

He  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  from  which 


240  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

the  cry  came  and  answered,  slowly  measuring  each 
word: 

"Go — go — t'  hell — you — you — coyote!" 

The  next  instant  the  starter  dropped  the  flag.  As 
it  went  down  the  filly  crouched  and  reared  straight 
into  the  air. 

That  one  second  gave  the  other  horses  the  start. 

Then  the  outlaw  mare  leaped  forward  directly 
behind  Thunderbolt,  running  against  the  inside  rail. 
Say-So,  the  Pecos  horse,  jammed  close  to  the  side 
of  the  black  stallion;  Snow  Johnson,  rider  of  Prince 
John,  pushed  the  big  sorrel  ahead  with  his  nose  at 
the  roan's  tail ;  Dash- Away  hugged  against  the  heels 
of  Prince  John.  The  Gold  Dust  maverick  was 
"pocketed!" 

A  breathless  hush  fell  over  the  crowd  in  the 
grandstand  after  the  first  mighty  roar : 

"They're  off!" 

Black  devils  of  torture  clutched  the  throat,  the 
mind,  the  body  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid.  Streams  of 
fire  seemed  to  be  flowing  through  his  veins.  He 
couldn't  see — he  was  blind.  "What  th' — what  th' 
— hell !"  he  muttered  over  and  over.  He  was  vaguely 
conscious  of  the  thunder  of  hoofs  around  him — 
under  him.  Dimly,  black  shadows  were  rushing 
along  at  his  side.  He  fought  with  all  his  will  to 
master  his  faculties.  Where  was  he?  What  was  it? 
Was  it  a — a — stampede?  What?  Oh,  yes,  th' race — 
th' — th' — sweepstakes — that — that  was  it —  Over 
and  over  the  fleeting  flashes  of  consciousness  kept 


THE  SWEEPSTAKES  241 

throwing  this  one  supreme  idea  on  the  mirror  of 
his  mind ! 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  by  any  of  the  party  at  the 
Clagstone  "Six"  as  the  five  fastest  horses  ever  on 
the  Eagle  Butte  track  swept  past  the  car  toward 
the  first  quarter-turn  of  the  course. 

Carolyn  June's  face  was  as  white  as  marble.  Her 
breast  heaved  and  fell  as  if  it  would  burst.  Dry- 
eyed,  every  nerve  tense,  she  stared  at  the  straining 
racers.  Unconsciously  she  gripped  into  hard  knots 
of  flesh  and  bone,  both  hands,  while  she  bit  at  her 
tmderlip  until  a  red  drop  of  blood  started  from  the 
gash  made  in  the  tender  skin  by  her  teeth. 

"Drunk!"  she  thought,  "drunk!  Beastly  drunk — j 
and  throwing  away  the  greatest  race  ever  run  on  a 
^Texas  track!" 

Old  Heck  sat  mipassive  as  though  carved  from 
stone  and  said  nothing. 

Ophelia  nervously  chewed  at  the  finger  of  her 
glove  while  her  eyes  moistened  with  sympathy  and 

pity- 
Skinny,  Chuck  and  Bert  sat  gloomily,  moodily, 

on  their  bronchos  and  watched  Thunderbolt  lead  the 
quintette  of  running  horses. 

For  the  life  of  him  Skinny  could  not  keep  from 
thinking  of  the  five  hundred  dollars  he  had  bet  with 
Sabota,  on  the  race,  and  the  number  of  white  shirts 
and  purple  ties  he  might  have  bought  with  the 


money 


Over  in  the  track-field  Parker,  Charley  and  Pedro 


242  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

saw  the  start  of  the  race  and  each  swore  softly  and 
silently  to  himself. 

Sing  Pete,  alone  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  crowd, 
in  the  jam  of  the  grandstand,  stretched  his  neck  and 
followed  with  inscrutable  eyes  the  close-bunched 
racers.  The  start  had  puzzled  him,  yet  he  murmured 
hopefully: 

"Maybe  all  samee  Lamblin'  Kid  he  beatee  hell 
out  of  'em  yet !" 

The  loyal  Chinese  cook  had  wagered  the  savings 
of  a  dozen  years  on  the  speed  of  the  Gold  Dust 
maverick's  nimble  legs  and  his  faith  in  the  "Lam- 
blin' Kid." 

A  blanket  might  have  covered  the  five  horses  as 
they  swung  around  the  first  mile. 

The  speed-mad  animals  roared  down  the  home- 
stretch, finishing  the  first  half  of  the  race  in  the  al- 
most identical  position  each  had  taken  in  the  get- 
away. 

The  Ramblin*  Kid  rode  the  mile  more  as  an  au- 
tomaton than  as  a  living,  conscious  human  being. 
He  had  no  memory  of  time,  place,  events — save  for 
the  instants  of  rationality  he  forced  his  will  to  bring. 

Gradually,  though,  his  mind  was  clearing. 

But  which  was  it — the  first  half ?— *the  last  half? 
How  long  had  they  been  running  ?  How  many  times 
had  they  gone  around  the  track?  He  could  not  re- 
member ! 

Down  the  straight  stretch  the  racers  came  in  a 
mighty  whirlwind  of  speed. 


THE  SWEEPSTAKES  243 

"Thunderbolt  is  taking  it !" 

"The  Y-Bar  horse  leads!" 

"Th*  black's  got  'em!"  roared  from  the  throats 
of  the  crowd  in  the  grandstand  and  the  mass  of 
humanity  crushing  the  railing  along  the  track. 

Dorsey  and  Sabota  leaped  to  the  edge  of  the  box 
as  the  horses  thundered  past  the  judges'  stand.  The 
voice  of  the  owner  of  Thunderbolt  shrieked  out  in 
a  hoarse  bellow : 

"Hold  him  to  it,  Flip!  Keep  your  lead — you've 
got  the  filly!" 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  heard  again — or  thought  he 
heard  again — the  voice  of  the  Vermejo  cattleman. 
He  caught,  as  an  echo,  a  note  of  triumph  in  it.  It 
was  like  a  tonic  to  his  drug-numbed  faculties. 

Suddenly  he  saw  clearly.  He  had  just  a  glimpse 
of  Sabota  standing  by  the  side  of  Dorsey.  He  un- 
derstood. In  a  flash  it  all  came  to  him.  The  first 
half  of  the  great  sweepstakes  race  was  behind  them! 
Once  more  they  were  to  circle  the  track.  The  glis- 
tening black  rump  of  Thunderbolt  rose  and  fell  just 
ahead  of  the  Gold  Dust  maverick's  nose — at  her 
side,  crowding  her  against  the  rail,  was  another 
horse.  Which  one?  It  didn't  matter!  Back  of  it 
was  another.  He  was  "pocketed!"  Hell,  no  won- 
der Thunderbolt  was  ahead  of  the  outlaw  mare ! 

Half-way  around  the  quarter-turn  he  pulled  the 
filly  down. 

She  slackened  ever  so  little.  Thunderbolt — the 
horse  at  her  side — all  of  them — shot  ahead. 


244  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

He  was  behind  the  bunch — clear  of  the  field ! 

The  crowd  saw  the  filly  dart  to  the  right.  It 
looked  as  though  she  would  go  over  the  outside  rail 
before  the  Ramblin'  Kid  swung  her,  in  a  great  arch, 
to  the  left  clear  of,  but  far  behind,  the  other  horses. 

He  was  crazy !  The  Gold  Dust  maverick  was  get- 
ting the  better  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid.  He  had  lost 
control  of  the  wonderful  mare! 

So  thought  the  thousands  watching  the  drama  on 
the  track  before  them. 

Away  over,  next  to  the  outside  fence,  on  the  far 
side  of  the  track,  open  now  before  him  for  the  long 
outfield  stretch,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  straightened  the 
Gold  Dust  maverick  out.  The  other  racers  were 
still  bunched  against  the  inner  rail — lengths  ahead 
of  the  filly. 

Leaning  low  on  the  neck  of  the  maverick,  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  began  talking,  for  the  first  time,  to 
the  horse  he  rode. 

"Baby — Baby!  Girl!"  he  whispered  incoherently 
almost.  "Go — go — damn  'em!  'Ophelia'3' — he 
laughed  thickly,  reeling  in  the  saddle.  "Hell — no — 
Little — Little — Pink  Garter  ! — that's — that's — what 
y'  are!  Little — Pink — Garter — "  he  repeated  irra- 
tionally. "That's  it — show  'em — damn  'em — show 
'em  what — what  runnin' — what  real  runnin'  is!" 
fumbling  caressingly  at  the  mare's  neck  with  hands 
numb  and  stiff  and  chuckling  pitifully,  insanely, 
while  his  face  was  drawn  with  agony  nearly  unen- 
durable. 


THE  SWEEPSTAKES  245 

Then  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  ran ! 

Never  had  ground  flowed  with  such  swiftness  un- 
der the  belly  of  a  horse  on  a  Texas  track. 

"Good  God !"  Skinny  yelled,  "looky  yonder !  He's 
passin'  them !  Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  is  passin'  'em !" 

No  one  answered  him. 

His  voice  was  drowned  in  the  mighty  roar  that 
surged  from  five  thousand  throats  and  rolled  in 
waves  of  echoing  and  re-echoing  sound  across  the 
field. 

"He's  ridin'  round  'em!" 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  is  goin'  around  them!" 

"Great  heavens !  Look  at  that  horse  go !" 

"She's  a-flyin' !    She's  a-flyin'!" 

The  Gold  Dust  maverick  closed  the  gap — she 
caught  Dash-Away — she  evened  up  with  Prince 
John — she  left  the  big  sorrel  behind — she  passed 
Say-So — nose  to  nose  for  a  few  rods  she  ran  oppo- 
site the  black  wonder — the  Thunderbolt  horse  from 
the  Vermejo. 

Flip  Williams,  spurs  raking  the  flanks  of  Dor- 
sey's  stallion,  looked  around. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  leaned  toward  him : 

"Hell — why — don't  you — make  that — thing  run!'' 
he  sneered  at  the  Y-Bar  rider. 

The  next  instant  the  Gold  Dust  maverick's  neck 
and  shoulders  showed  in  the  lead  of  the  Y-Bar 
stallion. 

At  the  turn  for  the  home  stretch  the  outlaw  filly 
shot  ahead  of  the  wonderful  black  horse  from  the 


246  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Vermejo,  swung  close  to  the  inside  rail,  and  like  a 
flash  of  gold-brown  darted  down  the  track  toward 
the  wire. 

The  grandstand  was  turned  into  a  madhouse  of 
seething  humanity.  The  immense  crowd  came  to  its 
feet  roaring  and  shrieking  with  frenzy.  Men 
smashed  their  neighbors  with  clenched  fists — not 
knowing  or  caring  how  hard  or  whom  they  struck 
— or  that  they  themselves  were  being  hit.  Women 
screamed  frantically,  hysterically,  tears  streaming 
from  thousands  of  eyes  because  of  sheer  joy  at  the 
wonderful  thing  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  was  doing. 
Even  the  stolid  Sing  Pete  was  jumping  up  and 
down,  shouting: 

"Come  on — come  on — Lamblin'  Kid!  Beat  'em — 
beatee  hell  out  of  'em!" 

Full  three  lengths  in  the  lead  of  the  "unbeatable" 
Thunderbolt  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  flashed  under 
the  wire  in  front  of  the  judges ! 

Dorsey,  shaken  in  every  nerve,  lips  blue  as  though 
he  were  stricken  with  a  chill,  reeled  out  of  the  box 
from  which  he  had  watched  his  whole  fortune  swept 
away  by  the  speed  of  the  Cimarron  mare.  At  his 
side,  profaning  horrible,  obscene  oaths  staggered 
Mike  Sabota. 

Old  Heck,  white-faced,  but  his  lips  drawn  in  a 
smile  of  satisfaction,  stood  up  in  the  Clagstone 
"Six"  and  watched  the  Ramblin'  Kid — his  eyes  set 
and  staring,  his  body  twitching  convulsively,  check 
the  filly,  swing  her  around,  ride  back  to  the  judges' 


;THE  SWEEPSTAKES  247 

stand,  weakly  fling  up  a  hand  in  salute  and  then, 
barely  able  to  sit  in  the  saddle,  rein  the  Gold  Dust 
maverick  off  the  track  and  ride  toward  the  box 
stall. 

Skinny  drew  a  hand  across  his  eyes  and  looked  at 
Carolyn  June. 

Tears  were  streaming  down  her  cheeks. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

OLD  HECK  GOES  TO  TOWN 

IT  WAS  Monday  morning,  clear  and  cloudless, 
with  a  whiff  of  a  breeze  kissing  the  poplars  along 
the  front-yard  fence  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT.  On 
the  sand-hills  north  of  the  Cimarron,  Pedro  was 
pushing  the  saddle  cavallard  toward  Rock  Creek, 
where  the  last  half  of  the  beef  round-up  was  to  begin. 
Parker  and  the  cowboys  were  just  splashing  their 
bronchos  into  the  water  at  the  lower  ford.  Sing 
Pete,  on  the  high  seat  of  the  grub-wagon,  was  once 
more  clucking  and  cawing  at  Old  Tom  and  Baldy 
as  they  drew  the  outfit  along  the  lane  and  followed 
the  others  to  the  open  range. 

Old  Heck,  Skinny,  Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June 
again  were  alone  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 

The  Eagle  Butte  Rodeo  had  closed,  with  one  last 
riotous  carnival  of  wildness  at  midnight  Saturday 
night. 

Once  more  the  straggling  town,  its  pulse  gradu- 
ally beating  back  to  normal,  lay  half -asleep  at  the 
foot  of  the  sun-baked  butte  that  stood  silent  and 
drowsy  beyond  the  Sante  Fe  tracks. 

Tom  Poole,  the  lank  marshal,  loafed  as  usual 
248 


OLD  HECK  GOES  TO  TOWN        249 

about  the  Elite  Amusement  Parlor,  over  which 
hung  a  sullen  quiet  reflecting  the  morbid  emotions 
of  Mike  Sabota,  its  brutish-built  proprietor,  result- 
ing from  hi*  heavy  losses  on  Thunderbolt  in  the 
two-mile  sweepstakes  when  the  Gold  Dust  maverick, 
ridden  by  the  drug-crazed  Ramblin'  Kid,  darted 
under  the  wire  lengths  ahead  of  the  black  Vermejo 
stallion. 

Friday  evening  Old  Heck  had  met  Dorsey  in  the 
pool-room. 

Judge  Ivory  handed  over  to  the  owner  of  the 
Quarter  Circle  KT  the  Y-Bar  cattleman's  check  for 
ten  thousand  dollars  and  the  bill  of  sale  he  had 
recklessly  given  and  which  transferred  to  Old  Heck 
all  the  cattle  the  Vermejo  rancher  owned. 

Dorsey  was  game. 

"You  put  it  on  me,"  he  said  to  Old  Heck,  "but 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  won  square  and  I'm  not  squeal- 
ing!" 

Old  Heck  turned  the  check  slowly  over  in  his 
hand  and  looked  at  it  with  a  quizzical  frown  on  his 
face: 

"I  reckon  this  is  good  ?" 

"It's  my  exact  balance,"  Dorsey  replied;  "I  saw 
to  that  this  morning." 

For  a  long  minute  Old  Heck  studied  the  bill  of 
sale  that  made  him  owner  of  every  cow-brute  burnt 
with  the  Y-Bar  brand. 

"My  men  will  gather  the  cattle  within  fifteen 
days,"  Dorsey  said  dully,  noting  the  half -question- 


250  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

ing  look  on  Old  Heck's  face,  "or  you  can  send  your 
own  crew,  just  as  you  please.  I  suppose  you'll  meet 
me  half-way  and  receive  the  stock  in  Eagle  Butte?" 

"Can  Thunderbolt  run?"  Old  Heck  asked  irrele- 
vantly. 

"Not  as  fast  as  that  imp  of  hell  of  the  Ramblin' 
Kid's !"  Dorsey  answered  instantly  and  with  a  short 
laugh. 

Old  Heck  chuckled. 

"You  say  you'll  turn  the  Y-Bar  cattle  over  to  me 
within  fifteen  days?"  he  asked  again,  reverting  to  a 
study  of  the  paper  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"Yes,"  Dorsey  replied;  "is  that  satisfactory?" 

"You're  a  pretty  good  sport,  after  all,  Dorsey," 
Old  Heck  said  quietly.  "I'll  cash  this  check" — 
glancing  at  the  yellow  slip  of  paper — "and  this 
thing,  here — we'll  just  tear  it  up!"  as  he  reduced 
the  bill  of  sale  to  fragments.  "Keep  your  cattle, 
Dorsey,"  he  added,  "ten  thousand  dollars  is  enough 
for  you  to  pay  for  your  lesson !" 

Dorsey  flushed  a  dull  red. 

"I  ain't  asking — " 

"I  know  you're  not,"  Old  Heck  interrupted,  "and 
that's  the  reason  I  tore  up  that  bill  of  sale !" 

"Old  Heck,"  Dorsey  said,  his  voice  trembling, 
"you're  white !  I'd  like  to  shake — " 

The  rival  cattlemen  gripped  hands  and  the  racing 
feud  between  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  and  the  Y-Bar 
was  ended. 

A  week  later  Dorsey  sent  Flip  Williams  to  the 


OLD  HECK  GOES  TO  TOWN        251 

Quarter  Circle  KT.  The  Vermejo  cowboy  led  the 
beautiful  black  stallion  that  had  mastered  Quick- 
silver and  had  in  turn  been  whipped  by  the  Gold 
Dust  maverick. 

"Dorsey  said,  Tell  Old  Heck  Thunderbolt's  a 
pretty  good  saddle  horse,'  "  Flip  explained,  "  'and 
he'd  do  to  change  off  with  Quicksilver  once  in  a 
while !  So  he  sent  him  over  as  a  sort  of  keepsake !'  " 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  did  not  return  to  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT  until  late  Sunday  night.  After  the  two- 
mile  sweepstakes  he  was  horribly  ill.  All  Friday 
night  he  laid,  in  a  semi-conscious  condition,  in  the 
stall  with  Captain  Jack  and  the  Gold  Dust  maverick. 

Parker  and  some  of  the  cowboys  visited  the  stall 
after  the  race,  but  they  thought  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
was  drunk  and  the  best  thing  was  to  allow  him  to 
sleep  it  off. 

"I  can't  figure  it  out,"  Chuck  said  as  they  turned 
away,  "he  never  did  get  drunk  before  that  I 
knew  of — " 

"You  can't  tell  what  he's  liable  to  do,"  Charley 
interrupted,  "he  sure  took  an  awful  chance  getting 
on  a  tear  at  the  time  he  did !" 

"Well,  he  won  the  race,"  Parker  said  admiringly, 
"drunk  or  sober,  you've  got  to  give  him  credit  for 
that!" 

Saturday  the  Ramblin'  Kid  got  Pedro  to  stay  with 
the  horses  while  he  went  over  to  the  Elite  Amuse- 
ment Parlor.  He  had  nothing  to  say  to  Sabota  or 
any  of  the  loafers  in  the  place. 


252  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

He  was  looking  for  Gyp  Streetor. 

Until  Sunday  afternoon  he  searched  Eagle  Butte, 
trying  to  find  the  tout.  All  he  wanted  was  to  locate 
the  man  who  had  sold  him  that  cup  of  coffee — he 
could  remember  drinking  the  coffee;  after  that  until 
the  following  morning  all  was  hazy. 

But  Gyp  was  gone. 

When  the  Gold  Dust  maverick,  with  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  swaying  uncertainly  on  her  back,  had  appeared 
on  the  track  for  the  two-mile  run,  the  tout,  his  eyes 
like  those  of  a  harried  rat,  sneaked  out  of  the  crowd 
in  front  of  the  book-makers'  booths  and  hurried 
toward  the  Santa  Fe  railroad  yards.  An  hour  later 
he  slipped  into  an  empty  freight  car — part  of  a  train 
headed  for  the  West — and  Eagle  Butte  saw  him  no 
more. 

It  was  midnight  Sunday  when  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
reached  the  Quarter  Circle  KT,  turned  Captain 
Jack  and  the  outlaw  filly  into  the  circular  corral,  and 
without  disturbing  Old  Heck,  Parker,  or  the  cow- 
boys, already  asleep  in  the  bunk-house,  sought  his 
bed. 

Monday  morning  he  was  at  breakfast  with  the 
others. 

Throughout  the  meal  the  Ramblin'  Kid  was  silent. 
Carolyn  June,  still  shocked  by  what  she  thought  was 
his  intoxication  the  day  of  the  race,  and  believ- 
ing he  had  remained  in  Eagle  Butte  over  Satur- 
day night  and  Sunday  to  continue  the  debauch,  ig- 
nored him. 


OLD  HECK  GOES  TO  TOWN        253 

None  of  the  others  cared  to  question  him  and  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  himself  volunteered  no  information. 

Once  only,  Old  Heck  mentioned  the  race. 

"That  was  a  pretty  good  ride  you  made  in  the 
two-mile  event,"  he  said,  addressing  the  Ramblin' 
Kid;  "it  looked  at  first  like  the  filly—" 

"You  won  your  money,  didn't  you?"  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  interrupted  in  a  tone  that  plainly  meant  there 
was  nothing  further  to  be  said. 

That  was  the  only  reference  to  the  incidents  of 
Friday  afternoon. 

After  breakfast  the  Ramblin'  Kid  saddled  the 
Gold  Dust  maverick,  turned  Captain  Jack  with  the 
cavallard,  and  with  Parker  and  the  other  Quarter 
Circle  KT  cowboys  rode  away  to  help  gather  the 
beef  cattle  from  the  west  half  of  the  Cimarron 
range. 

The  week  that  followed  passed  quickly. 

During  the  entire  period  the  Kiowa  lay  under  a 
mantle  of  sunshine  by  day  and  starlit  skies  by  night. 

Carolyn  June  once  more  provided  the  evening 
dessert  of  coffee-jelly  and  Skinny  finished  teaching 
her  the  art  of  dipping  bread  in  milk  and  egg  batter, 
frying  it  in  hot  butter,  and  calling  the  result  "French 
toast." 

Skinny  again  put  on  the  white  shirt  and  the  sham- 
rock tinted  tie.  He  had  nol  dared  to  wear  what 
Chuck  called  his  "love-making  rigging"  during  the 
week  of  the  Rodeo.  It  would  have  made  him  en- 
tirely too  conspicuous  among  the  hundreds  of  other, 


254  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

cowboys  gathered  at  Eagle  Butte  for  the  big  cele- 
bration. Situations  filled  with  embarrassment  would 
have  been  almost  certain  to  develop. 

"It's  getting  so  it  needs  a  washing  a  little," 
Skinny  remarked  to  Carolyn  June  the  first  time  he 
reappeared  in  the  once  snowy  garment. 

He  was  quite  right. 

Carolyn  June  herself  had  noticed  that  the  shirt 
had  lost  some  of  its  immaculateness. 

"It  doesn't  look  hardly  as  white  as  it  did  at  first!" 

"No,  it  don't,"  Skinny  answered  seriously.  "I 
guess  I'll  wash  it  to-morrow.  I  never  did  wash  one 
but  I  reckon  it  ain't  so  awful  hard  to  do — " 

"I'll  help  you,"  Carolyn  June  volunteered.  "I've 
never  washed  one  either,  but  it  will  be  fun  to  learn 
how!" 

The  next  day  they  washed  the  shirt. 

The  ceremony  was  performed  in  the  kitchen  after 
they  had  finished  doing  the  breakfast  dishes.  Ophe- 
lia, after  water  for  a  vase  of  roses,  came  into  the 
room  while  Skinny  was  rinsing  the  shirt  in  the 
large  tin  dishpan. 

The  garment  was  a  sickly  yellow. 

"Darned  if  I  know  what's  wrong  with  it,"  Skinny 
said,  a  trifle  discouraged,  while  Carolyn  June,  her 
sleeves  rolled  above  dimpled  elbows,  stood  by  and 
watched  the  slushy  operation.  "Carolyn  June  and 
me  both  have  blamed  near  rubbed  our  fingers  off 
trying  to  get  it  to  look  right  again  but  somehow 
or  other  it  don't  seem  to  work." 


OLD  HECK  GOES  TO  TOWN        255 

"Did  you  put  bluing  in  your  rinse  water?"  Ophe- 
lia asked  with  a  laugh. 

"Bluing?"  Carolyn  June  and  Skinny  questioned 
together.  "What  does  that  do  to  it  ?" 

"Bleaches  it — makes  it  white,"  the  widow  replied 
with  another  laugh  as  she  returned  to  the  front 
room. 

"By  golly,  maybe  that's  what  it  needs !"  Skinny 
exclaimed  hopefully. 

"Of  course,"  Carolyn  June  cried  gaily.  "How 
silly  we  were  not  to  think  of  it !  Any  one  ought  to 
know  you  put  bluing  in  the  water  when  you  wash 
things.  Wonder  if  Sing  Pete  has  any  around  any- 
where?" 

They  searched  the  kitchen  shelves  and  found  a 
pint  bottle,  nearly  full,  of  the  liquid  indigo  com- 
pound. 

"How  much  do  you  suppose  we  ought  to  put  in?" 
Carolyn  June  asked,  pulling  the  cork  from  the  bottle 
and  holding  it  poised  over  the  pan  of  water  in  which 
the  shirt,  a  slimy,  dingy  mass,  floated  drunkenly. 

"Darned  if  I  know,"  Skinny  said,  scratching  his 
head.  "She  said  it  would  make  it  white — I  reckon 
the  more  you  put  in  the  whiter  the  blamed  thing'll 
be.  Try  about  half  of  it  at  first  and  see  how  it 
works !" 

"Gee,  isn't  it  pretty?"  Carolyn  June  gurgled  as 
she  tipped  the  bottle  and  the  waves  of  indigo  spread 
through  the  water,  covering  the  shirt  with  a  deep 
crystalline  blue. 


256  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"You  bet!"  Skinny  exclaimed.  "That  ought  to 
fix  it!" 

It  did. 

The  shirt,  when  finally  dried,  was  a  wonderful 
thing — done  in  a  sort  of  mottled,  streaky,  marbled 
sky  and  cloud  effect. 

But  Skinny  wore  it,  declaring  he  liked  it  better — « 
that  it  more  nearly  matched  the  shamrock  tie — than 
when  it  was  "too  darned  white  and  everything!" 

To  Parker  and  the  boys  on  the  beef  hunt  every- 
thing was  business. 

The  days  were  filled  with  hard  riding  as  they 
gathered  the  cattle,  bunched  the  fat  animals,  cut  out 
and  turned  back  those  unfit  for  the  market,  stood 
guard  at  night  over  the  herd,  steadily  and  rapidly 
cleaned  the  west  half  of  the  Kiowa  range  of  the 
stuff  that  was  ready  to  sell. 

It  was  supper-time  on  one  of  the  last  days  of  the 
round-up. 

The  outfit  was  camped  at  Dry  Buck.  Bed  rolls, 
wrapped  in  dingy  gray  tarpaulins  or  black  rubber 
ponchos,  were  scattered  about  marking  the  places 
where  each  cowboy  that  night  would  sleep.  The 
herd  was  bunched  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  in  a  little 
cove  backed  by  the  rim  of  sand-hills.  Captain  Jack 
and  Silver  Tip,  riderless  but  with  their  saddles  still 
on,  were  nipping  the  grass  near  the  camp — the  Ram- 
blin'  Kid  and  Chuck  were  to  take  the  first  watch, 
until  midnight,  at  "guard  mount."  Parker  and  the 
cowboys  were  squatted,  legs  doubled  under  them, 


OLD  HECK  GOES  TO  TOWN        257 

their  knees  forming  a  table  on  which  to  hold  the 
white  porcelain  plate  of  "mulligan,"  in  a  circle  at 
the  back  of  the  grub- wagon.  Sing  Pete  trotted 
around  the  group  and  poured  black,  blistering-hot 
coffee  into  the  unbreakable  cups  on  the  ground  at 
the  side  of  the  hungry,  dusty  riders. 

The  sun  had  just  dipped  into  the  ragged  peaks  of 
the  Costejo  range  and  a  reddish-purple  crown  lay 
on  the  crest  of  Sentinel  Mountain  forty  miles  to  the 
southeast. 

"It  looks  to  me  like  Parker's  sort  of  losing  out," 
Chuck  suddenly  remarked,  as  he  wiped  his  lips  on 
the  back  of  his  hand  after  washing  down  a  mouthful 
of  the  savory  stew  with  gulps  of  steaming  coffee. 
"Ophelia  stuck  closer  than  thunder  to  Old  Heck 
all  through  the  Rodeo." 

Parker  reddened  and  growled :  "Aw,  hell — don't 
start  that  up  again!" 

"By  criminy,  she  didn't  stick  any  closer  to  Old 
Heck  than  Skinny  stuck  to  Carolyn  June,"  Bert 
complained.  "Nobody  C\SQ  had  a  look-in !" 

"Skinny's  sure  earning  his  money,"  Charley 
muttered  half  enviously. 

"Bet  he's  got  on  that  white  shirt  and  having  a 
high  old  time  right  now !  They're  probably  in  the 
front  room  and  she's  playing  La  Paloma  on  the 
piano  while  Old  Skinny's  setting  back  rolling  his 
eyes  up  like  a  bloated  yearling!"  Chuck  laughed. 

"And  Old  Heck  and  Ophelia  are  out  on  the  porch 
holding  hands  and  looking  affectionate  while  the 


258  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

mosquitos  are  chewing  their  necks  and  ankles!" 
Bert  added  with  a  snicker. 

"Her  and  Old  Heck'll  probably  be  married  be- 
fore we  get  back,"  Chuck  said  solemnly,  with  a  wink 
at  the  Ramblin'  Kid  and  a  sly  glance  in  the  direction 
of  Parker. 

"Do  you  reckon  there's  any  danger  of  it?"  Par- 
ker asked  in  a  voice  that  showed  anxiety,  but  not  of 
the  sort  the  cowboys  thought. 

"They're  darned  near  sure  to,"  Chuck  replied 
seriously,  heaving  what  he  tried  to  make  resemble  a 
sigh  of  sympathy. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  Parker  questioned, 
seeking  confirmation  from  the  lips  of  others,  of  a 
hope  that  had  been  rising  in  his  heart  since  the  first 
moment  he  had  begun  to  regret  his  rash  proposal  of 
marriage  to  the  widow. 

"Well,  for  one  thing" — Chuck  began  soberly — 
"the  way  they'd  look  at  each  other — " 

"I  saw  her  squeeze  Old  Heck's  arm  once!"  Bert 
interrupted. 

"Aw,  she's  done  that  lots  of  times,"  Chuck  said 
airily;  "that  ain't  nothing  special!  But  the  worst 
indication  was  them  flowers  she  wore  on  her  bosom 
every  day — Old  Heck  bought  'em!"  he  finished  dra- 
matically, leaning  over  and  speaking  tensely  as 
though  it  pained  him  immeasurably  to  break  the 
news  to  Parker  while  he  fixed  on  Old  Heck's  rival 
a  look  he  imagined  was  one  of  supreme  pity. 

"Yeah,  he  had  them  sent  up  from  Las  Vegas," 


OLD  HECK  GOES  TO  TOWN        259 

Bert  added,  picking  up  the  cue  and  lying  glibly.  "I 
saw  the  express  agent  deliver  a  box  of  them  to  him 
one  day.  There  was  four  dollars  and  eighty  cents 
charges  on  'em !" 

A  gleam,  which  the  cowboys  misunderstood,  came 
into  Parker's  eyes. 

"Why  don't  you  and  Old  Heck  fight  a  duel  about 
Ophelia?"  Bert  suggested  tragically  and  in  a  voice 
that  was  aimed  to  convey  sympathy  to  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT  foreman.  "You  could  probably  kill 
him!" 

"Sure,  that's  the  way  they  do  in  books,"  Chuck 
urged. 

"Yes,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  broke  in  with  a  slow 
drawl,  "fight  one  with  sour-dough  biscuits  at  a  hun- 
dred yards !  That'd  be  sensible — then  both  of  you'd 
be  genuine  heroes !" 

"Gosh,  th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  awake!"  Bert  laughed. 
"How  does  it  happen  you  ain't  fell  in  love  with 
Carolyn  June?"  he  asked,  turning  toward  the  slen- 
der, dark-eyed,  young  cowboy.  "So  far  you're  the 
only  one  that's  escaped.  The  rest  of  us  are  break- 
ing our  hearts — " 

For  an  instant  the  Ramblin'  Kid  flashed  on  Bert 
a  look  of  hot  anger  while  a  dull  red  glow  spread 
over  his  sun-tanned  cheeks. 

"There's  enough  damned  fools  loose  on  th'  Kiowa 
range  without  me  bein'  one,  too !"  he  retorted  slowly, 
getting  up  and  going  toward  Captain  Jack. 

"Blamed  if  he'll  stand  a  bit  of  joshing  on  that 


260  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

subject!"  Bert  muttered,  his  own  face  flushing  from 
the  look  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had  given  him. 

"Not  a  darned  bit,"  Chuck  added,  "but  it  is  funny; 
the  way  he  shys  off  from  Carolyn  June !" 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  ain't  interested  in  women," 
Charley  said,  as  they  pitched  their  plates  to  one  side 
and  the  meal  was  finished.  "He  ain't  the  kind  that 
bothers  with  females !" 

When  Chuck  had  idly  suggested  that  Old  Heck 
and  Ophelia  might  be  married  before  Parker  and 
the  Quarter  Circle  KT  cowboys  returned  to  the 
ranch  from  the  beef  hunt,  he  did  not  know  it,  but 
the  wrords  he  spoke  in  jest  voiced  the  very  thought 
at  the  same  instant  in  the  mind  of  Old  Heck — miles 
away  though  he  was.  Perhaps  it  was  mental  telepa- 
thy, thought  vibration,  subconscious  soul  communi- 
cation— or  a  mere  coincident,  that  caused  Chuck, 
far  out  on  the  open  range,  to  speak  the  thing  Old 
Heck,  sitting  at  supper  with  Carolyn  June,  Ophelia 
and  Skinny,  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  was  thinking. 

Ever  since  Parker  had  voluntarily  surrendered 
during  the  Rodeo,  his  right  to  alternate,  day  and 
day  about,  with  Old  Heck  in  the  widow's  society, 
the  owner  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  had  been 
watching  Ophelia,  covertly  and  carefully,  for  any 
sign  of  "Movements"  or  an  outbreak  as  a  dreaded 
suffragette. 

While  he  watched  her  the  widow  was  becoming 
more  and  more  a  necessity  in  the  life  of  Old  Heck. 

The  night  of  the  conversation  between  Parker  and 


OLD  HECK  GOES  TO  TOWN        261 

the  cowboys,  away  over  at  Rock  Creek,  Old  Heck 
sat  at  the  supper  table  in  the  kitchen  at  the  ranch 
and  debated  in  his  mind  the  future  relationships  of 
Parker,  Ophelia  and  himself.  In  a  few  days  Parker 
would  return.  Almost  certainly  the  foreman  would 
again  wish  to  share,  fifty-fifty,  in  the  courtship  of 
the  widow.  Old  Heck  felt  that  if  such  were  so 
those  odd  days,  when  Parker  was  with  Ophelia, 
would  be  little  less  than  hell.  Yet,  he  dreaded  that 
suffragette  business.  If  she  would  only  break  loose 
and  let  him  see  how  bad  she  was  liable  to  be  he  could 
easily  make  up  his  mind.  He  was  almost  ready  to 
take  a  chance,  to  ask  Ophelia  to  marry  him  and  set- 
tle it  all  at  once. 

Throughout  the  meal  he  was  moody.  After  sup- 
per he  had  little  to  say  and  the  next  few  days  he 
brooded  constantly  over  the  matter. 

Tuesday  Parker  and  the  cowboys  were  expected 
to  return  with  the  beef  cattle.  Monday  morning, 
at  breakfast,  the  widow  asked  Old  Heck  if  he  would 
take  her  to  Eagle  Butte  that  day. 

"I  must  see  the  minister's  wife,"  she  said,  as  Old 
Heck  steered  the  Clagstone  "Six"  up  the  grade  that 
led  out  to  the  bench  and  to  Eagle  Butte,  "  —it  is 
very  important." 

Old  Heck  murmured  assent  and  drove  silently  on. 

Probably  she  was  going  to  start  a  "Movement" 
or  something  to-day !  To-morrow,  Parker  would  be 
T^ack.  It  sure  did  put  a  man  in  a  dickens  of  a  fix ! 

Before  they  reached  the  long  bridge  across  the 


262  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Cimarron  a  mile  from  Eagle  Butte  Old  Heck's  mind 
was  made  up. 

"You  want  to  stop  at  the  preacher's  house?"  he 
asked. 

"If  you  please,"  Ophelia  replied,  "for  some  little 
time.  There  are  things  to  discuss — " 

"Would  you  mind  if  I  drove  around  to  the  court- 
house first  ?"  Old  Heck  questioned  again. 

"Not  at  all,"  she  answered  sweetly. 

A  few  moments  later  Old  Heck  stopped  the  Clag- 
stone  "Six"  in  front  of  the  yellow  sandstone  county 
building.  Leaving  Ophelia  in  the  car  with  the  re- 
mark, "I'll  be  out  in  a  minute !"  he  went  inside  and 
hurried  along  the  dark  corridor  that  led  to  the  clerk's 
office. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT 

IN  OLD  HECK'S  eyes  was  a  set,  determined  look 
when  he  came  out  of  the  court-house  and  stepped 
up  to  the  Clagstone  "Six"  in  which  he  had  left 
Ophelia  a  few  moments  before.  The  end  of  a  long 
yellow  envelope  protruded  from  the  side  pocket  of 
his  coat.  His  face  was  flushed  and  his  hand  trem- 
bled slightly  as  he  opened  the  door  of  the  car  and 
climbed  into  the  front  seat  beside  the  widow.  He 
pressed  his  foot  on  the  "starter,"  threw  the  clutch 
into  gear  and  turning  the  car  about  drove  slowly 
toward  the  home  of  Reverend  Hector  R.  Patterson, 
Eagle  Butte's  only  resident  clergyman. 

He  did  not  speak  until  the  car  stopped  at  the  gate 
of  the  little  unpainted  parsonage  beside  the  white, 
weather-boarded  church. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  said  as  Ophelia  started  to 
get  out  of  the  Clagstone  "Six,"  "maybe  I'll  go  in 
with  you !" 

"Splendid,"  the  widow  replied,  settling  again 
against  the  cushions.  "I'd  be  delighted  to  have  you 
come  along  and  I'm  sure  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Patterson 
would  be  glad  to  see  you !" 

263 


264  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Well,  it — it" — Old  Heck  stammered,  not  know- 
ing how  to  begin  what  he  wanted  to  say — "it — it 
all  depends  on  you !  Here" — he  said  abruptly  as  a 
bright  thought  came  to  him — "read  that  and — and 
— tell  me  what  you  think  about  it !"  at  the  same  time 
pulling  the  yellow  envelope  from  his  pocket  and 
handing  it  to  Ophelia. 

With  a  questioning  lift  of  her  eyebrows  the 
widow  drew  the  folded,  official-looking  document 
from  the  envelope. 

"Why,  it's  a — it's  a — "  she  started  to  say  and 
stopped  confused,  her  cheeks  blazing  crimson. 

"It's  a  marriage  license — "  Old  Heck  said,  com- 
ing to  her  rescue,  " — made  out  for  you  and  me.  I 
• — I — didn't  know  what  to  tell  the  clerk  when  he 
asked  me  how  old  you  was — so  I  just  guessed  at  it!" 

The  widow  looked  shyly  down  at  the  names  writ- 
ten on  the  document. 

The  license  granted  "Ophelia  Cobb,  age  twenty- 
three,  of  Hartville,  Connecticut,  and  Josiah  Alonzo 
Heck,  age  forty-eight,  of  Kiowa  County,  Texas," 
the  right  to  marry. 

Ophelia's  actual  years  were  thirty-nine ! 

From  under  drooping  lashes  she  glanced  up  sus- 
piciously into  the  earnest  gray  eyes  beside  her.  She 
saw  that  Old  Heck  had  been  sincere  in  his  "guess." 

"But— but— " 

"I  know  it's  kind  of  unexpected,"  Old  Heck  in- 
terrupted nervously,  " — perhaps  I  had  ought  to  have 
said  something  about  it  first,  but,  well,  I  figured  I'd 


A  SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT  265 

go  on  and  get  the  license  and  show  that  my  inten- 
tions was  good  and — and — sort  of  risk  the  whole 
thing  on  one  throw!  It  always  seemed  like  there 
was  something  missing  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT," 
he  went  on,  his  voice  grown  softer  and  trembling  a 
bit,  "and — and  when  you  came  I — I — found  out 
what  it  was — " 

Ophelia  sat  silently  with  downcast  eyes,  her  pulse 
racing,  the  license  unfolded  on  her  lap,  while  she 
bit  uncertainly  at  the  tip  of  the  finger  of  her  glove. 

"I — I — know  I  ain't  very  good-looking  or — or — 
anything,"  Old  Heck  continued,  "but  I  thought 
maybe  you — you — liked  me  a  little — enough  any- 
how to  get  married — that  is  if  you — .  Oh-h — thun- 
der, Ophelia !"  he  exclaimed  in  despair,  feeling  that 
he  was  hopelessly  floundering,  "I — I — love  you! 
Please  let's  use  that  license !  Let's  use  it  right  away 
— to-day — and  get  it  over  with!"  he  urged  as  the 
widow  still  hesitated. 

"But — I — I'm  not  suitably  dressed—"  she  stam- 
mered. 

"I  think  that  dress  you've  got  on  is  the  prettiest 
goods  I  ever  saw  in  my  life,"  he  interrupted,  look- 
ing adoringly  at  the  clinging  summer  fabric  caress- 
ing Ophelia's  shapely  form,  "I  always  did  think  it 
would  be  awful  appropriate  for  us  to — to — get 
married  in !"  he  finished  pleadingly. 

"But — Carolyn       June       and — and — Parker- 
Ophelia  murmured. 

At  the  mention  of  Parker,  Old  Heck  started  while 


266  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

a  look  of  anguish  came  into  his  eyes.  So  she  loved 
Parker!  That  was  why  she  was  so  backward,  he 
thought.  Well,  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  foreman 
was  a  little  better-looking,  maybe,  and  some, 
younger !  He  couldn't  blame  her. 

His  head  dropped.  For  a  moment  Old  Heck  was 
silent,  a  dull,  sickening  hurt  gripping  his  heart.  A 
deep  sigh  escaped  from  his  lips.  He  reached  over 
and  picked  up  the  license. 

"I — I — guess  I  made  a  mistake,"  he  said  numbly. 
"We'll  just — just — tear  this  thing  up  and  forget 
about  it !" 

Ophelia  looked  demurely  up  at  him,  her  mouth 
twitching.  One  small  gloved  hand  slipped  over  and 
rested  on  the  strong  brown  fingers  that  held  the 
license.  Roses  flamed  over  the  full  round  throat 
and  spread  their  blush  to  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes  were 
like  pools  of  liquid  blue : 

"Don't  tear  it — it — up!"  she  whispered  with  a 
little  laugh — a  laugh  that  sent  the  blood  leaping, 
like  fire,  through  Old  Heck's  veins,  "it — it  would 
be  a  shame  to  waste  it !" 

For  an  instant  Old  Heck  was  dazed.  He  looked 
at  her  as  if  he  could  not  believe  he  had  heard  aright. 
Suddenly  a  wave  of  undiluted  happiness  swept  over 
him. 

"Ophelia !"  he  cried  huskily.  "Oh,  Ophelia !"  and 
the  minister's  three  small  sons,  pausing  in  their  play 
in  the  grassless  yard  at  the  side  of  the  house,  while 
they  watched  the  beautiful  car  standing  in  front  of 


A  SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT  267 

the  parsonage  gate,  saw  the  owner  of  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT,  in  broad  daylight,  on  the  principal  resi- 
dence street  of  Eagle  Butte,  before  the  eyes  of  the 
whole  world — if  the  whole  world  cared  to  look — 
throw  his  arms  around  the  plump  lady  sitting  be- 
side him  and  press  one  long,  rapturous  kiss  on  her 
moist,  unresisting  lips ! 

A  moment  later  Ophelia  and  Old  Heck,  both  much 
embarrassed  but  tremulously  happy,  stepped  inside 
the  door  of  the  parsonage. 

They  were  driving  away  from  the  minister's 
house — going  to  the  Occidental  Hotel  for  a  little 
all-by-their-ownselves  "wedding  luncheon" — before 
either  thought  of  the  matter  concerning  which 
Ophelia  had  desired  to  see  the  clergyman's  wife. 

"Gee  whiz!"  Old  Heck  exclaimed,  "you  forgot 
that  consultation  or  whatever  it  was  with  Mrs.  Pat- 
terson to  start  your  woman's  suffrage  'move- 
ment'—" 

"To  start  my  what?" 

"Your  'woman's  rights/  'female  voter's  organ- 
ization'— or  whatever  it  is !"  Old  Heck  explained,  a 
new-born  tolerance  in  his  voice.  "I  didn't  mean  to 
interfere  with  your  political  activities — " 

Ophelia  threw  back  her  head,  while  a  ripple  of 
laughter  trilled  out  above  the  purr  of  the  Clagstone 
"Six." 

"Why,  my  dear— dear— Old  Boy!"  she  cried,  "I 
am  not  engaged  in  'political  activities,'  or  'suffra- 
gette movements  r  Of  course,"  she  continued 


268  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

archly,  "I  believe  women  ought  to  be  allowed  to  vote 
< — if  they  haven't  intelligence  enough  for  that  they 
haven't  brains  enough  to  be  good  'pardners'  with 
their  husbands — " 

"By  gosh,  you're  right!"  Old  Heck  agreed,  "I 
never  thought  of  it  that  way  before!" 

"And,"  she  continued,  "naturally  I  shall  vote 
whenever  the  opportunity  comes,  but  I'm  not  an 
'Organizer'  for  anything  of  that  kind.  Mrs.  Pat- 
terson and  I  are  going  to  organize  the  wives,  sisters 
and  sweethearts,  in  Eagle  Butte,  into  a  club  for  the 
study  of  'Scientific  and  Efficient  Management  of  the 
Home!'  We  think  we  should  be  as  proficient  in 
those  arts — and  which  we  believe  are  peculiarly 
womanly  functions — as  the  men  are  in  the  direction 
of  the  more  strenuous  business  affairs  in  which  they 
themselves  are  engaged." 

"So  that's  what  you're  an  'Organizer'  for?"  Old 
Heck  queried  while  a  radiant  contentment  spread 
over  his  face. 

"That  is  it,"  Ophelia  said  simply,  adding  with  a 
most  becoming  heightening  of  color,  "it  is  so  we 
will  be — will  be — better  wives !" 

"My  Gawd !"  Old  Heck  breathed  fervently.  "My 
Gawd !  The  Lord  has  been  good  to  me  to-day !" 

While  Old  Heck  and  Ophelia  were  in  Eagle  Butte 
getting  married,  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  had  been 
riding  line  on  the  upland  pasture  fence.  They  had 
just  returned  to  the  Quarter  Circle  KT,  unsaddled 
their  horses,  turned  them  into  the  pasture,  gone  to 


A  SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT  269 

the  house  and  stopped  a  moment  on  the  front  porch 
to  watch  the  glow  in  the  west — the  sun  was  dipping 
into  a  thundercap  over  the  Costejo  Mountains — 
when  the  Clagstone  "Six"  rolled  down  the  grade 
and  up  to  the  string  of  poplars  before  the  house. 

"Gee,  we  thought  you  two  had  eloped !"  Carolyn 
June  laughed  as  the  couple  climbed  out  of  the  car 
and  came,  rather  bashfully,  in  at  the  gate.  Old 
Heck  and  Ophelia  looked  at  each  other  guiltily. 

"We  did  come  darn  near  it !"  Old  Heck  chuckled, 
plunging  at  once  into  the  task  of  breaking  the  news. 
"We  got  married — I  reckon  you'd  call  that  the  next 
thing  to  eloping!" 

"Got  married?"  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  cried 
together. 

"Who — who — got  married?"  Skinny  repeated  in- 
credulously. 

"Ophelia  and  me,"  Old  Heck  answered  with  a 
sheepish  grin  but  proudly.  "Who  else  did  you  think 
we  meant?  We  just  thought,"  he  continued  by  way 
of  explanation,  "we'd  go  ahead  and  do  it  kind  of 
private  and  save  a  lot  of  excitement  and  every- 
thing!" 

Carolyn  June  threw  her  arms  around  Ophelia  and 

kissed  her. 

"Good-by,  chaperon,"  she  laughed  w'ith^a  half- 
sob  in  her  throat,  "h— hello,  'Aunt'"  Then  she 
strangled  Old  Heck  with  a  hug  that  made  him  gasp. 

"What  the  devil — are  you  trying  to  do — choke 
me?" 


'270  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Well,  by  thunder,  Old  Heck!"  Skinny  finally 
managed  to  ejaculate,  "it  was  the  sensiblest  thing 
you  ever  done!  I — I've — been" — with  a  sidelong 
look  at  Carolyn  June — "kind  of  figuring  on  doing 
it  myself!" 

Carolyn  June  saw  the  expression  in  Skinny's  eyes. 
A  pained  look  came  into  her  own.  She  had  known, 
for  a  long  while,  that  sooner  or  later  there  would 
have  to  come  an  understanding  between  this  big, 
overgrown,  juvenile-hearted  cowboy  and  herself. 
She  resolved  then  that  it  should  come  quickly.  Fur- 
ther delay  would  be  cruel  to  him.  Besides,  she  was 
sick  of  flirtations.  Her  disappointment  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  her  realization  of  his  weak- 
ness, when  he  had  gotten,  as  she  believed,  beastly 
drunk  at  the  moment  so  much  depended  on  him  the 
day  of  the  two-mile  sweepstakes,  had  hurt  deeply. 
Somehow,  even  his  magnificent  ride  and  the  fact 
that,  in  spite  of  his  condition,  he  won  the  race,  had 
not  taken  the  sting  away.  She  had  thought  the  Ram^ 
blin'  Kid  was  real — rough  and  crude,  perhaps,  but 
all  man,  rugged-hearted  and  honest.  Sometimes  she 
wondered  if  the  queer  unexplainable  antagonism  be- 
tween herself  and  the  sensitive  young  cowboy  had 
not,  in  a  measure,  been  responsible  for  his  sudden 
moral  breaking  down.  The  thought  caused  her  to 
lose  some  of  that  frivolity  that  inspired  the  dance 
and  the  wild  flirtations  she  carried  on  that  night 
with  all  the  cowboys  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 
After  all,  these  plain,  simple-acting  men  of  the  range 


A  SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT  271 

were  just  boys  grown  big  in  God's  great  out- 
of-doors  where  things  are  taken  for  what  they  seem 
to  be.  No  wonder  an  artless  look  from  sophisticated 
brown  eyes  swept  them  off  their  feet ! 

She  made  up  her  mind  to  disillusion  Skinny  at 
once. 

After  supper  the  quartette  gathered  in  the  front 
room. 

"Come  on,  Skinny,"  Carolyn  June  said  with 
forced  gaiety,  "let  us  take  a  walk.  That  pair  of 
cooing  doves" — with  a  playfully  tender  glance  at 
Ophelia  and  Old  Heck — "wish  nothing  so  much  as 
to  be  permitted  to  'goo-goo'  at  each  other  all  by 
their  little  'lonelies !'  " 

Bareheaded  she  and  Skinny  strolled  out  the  front 
gate  and  along  the  road  that  led  up  to  the  bench.  At 
the  top  of  the  grade  they  sat  down,  side  by  side,  on 
a  large  boulder  that  hung  on  the  brink  of  the  bench. 
.The  Quarter  Circle  KT  lay  before  them — restful 
and  calm  in  the  shadows  of  early  evening.  The 
poplars  along  the  front-yard  fence  stood  limp  in  the 
silent  air.  Across  the  valley  the  sand-hills  were  mel- 
lowing with  the  coming  softness  of  twilight.  Up  the 
river,  to  the  west,  beyond  Eagle  Butte,  a  summer 
thunder-cloud  was  climbing  higher  and  higher  into 
the  sky.  In  the  direction  of  Dry  Buck,  far  toward 
the  northwest,  a  fog  of  dust  was  creeping  along  the 
horizon,  gradually  approaching  the  upland  pasture. 
Skinny  saw  it. 

"By  golly,"  he  cried,  "that's  either  Parker  an4 


272  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

the  boys  coming  in  with  the  cattle — or  else  it's  a 
band  of  sheep!  It  surely  can't  be  'woollys' — they 
never  get  over  in  there!  If  it's  our  outfit,  though, 
they've  got  through  quicker  than  they  figured !" 

A  few  moments  later  the  dim  bulk  of  the  "grub- 
wagon"  appeared,  miles  away,  slowly  crawling  to- 
ward the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 

For  a  time  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  were  silent. 

Skinny's  hand  crept  slyly  across  the  rock  and 
found  the  pink  fingers  of  Carolyn  June.  She  did 
not  draw  away. 

"Carolyn  June,"  he  whispered  haltingly,  "Carolyn 
June — I — Old  Heck  and  Ophelia  have  got  married 
— let's  you  and — and — " 

"Please,  Skinny,  don't  say  it!"  she  interrupted, 
her  voice  trembling.  "I — I  know  what  you  mean! 
It  hurts  me.  Listen,  Skinny" — she  hurried  on,  de- 
termined to  end  it  quickly — "maybe  you  will  de- 
spise me,  but — I  like  you,  truly  I  do — but  not  tlmt 
way !  I  don't  want  to  grieve  you — I  wish  us  to  be 
just  good  friends — that's  why  I'm  telling  you !  Let's 
be  friends,  Skinny — just  friends — we  can't  be  any 
more  than  that — " 

Skinny  understood.  A  dull,  throbbing  pain  tight- 
ened about  his  throat.  His  fingers  gripped  Carolyn 
June's  hand  an  instant  and  then  relaxed.  The  whole 
world  seemed  suddenly  blank. 

"Can't  you — won't  you — ever — ca — care?"  he 
asked  in  a  voice  filled  with  despair. 


A  SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT  273 

"I  do  care,  boy,"  she  replied  softly,  "I  do  care — 
but  not  that  way!  Oh,  Skinny,"  she  exclaimed, 
wishing  to  make  it  as  easy  as  possible  for  the  senti- 
mental cowboy  at  her  side,  "maybe  I  have  done 
wrong  to  let  you  go  ahead,  but,  well,  I  found  out 
— I  guessed  the  'arrangements' — how  you  had  been 
chosen  to  make  'love'  to  me  and  how  Parker  and 
Uncle  Josiah  were  to  divide  Ophelia  between  them. 
Perhaps  that  is  why  I  have  flirted  so — just  to  punish 
you  all!  Truly,  Skinny,  I'm  sorry.  Please  don't 
hate  me  like — like — the  Ramblin'  Kid  does!"  she 
finished  with  a  shaky  little  laugh. 

"He — don't  hate  you,"  Skinny  answered  dully, 
"at  least  I  don't  think  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  hates  you 
anybody.  And  you  knowed  all  the  time  that  I 
getting  paid  to  make  love  to  you?  Well,  I 
was,"  he  added  chokingly,  "but  I'd  have  done  it  for 
nothing  if  I'd  had  the  chance!" 

"Yes,  Skinny,"  she  replied,  "I  knew — I  know — 
and  I  don't  blame  you !" 

"I  don't  blame  you,  either,"  he  said  humbly,  "it 
was  a — a — excuse  me,  Carolyn  June — a  damned 
mean  trick  to  frame  up  on  you  and  Ophelia  that 
wav — but  we  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  you !  I 
reckon,"  he  continued  in  the  same  despairing  tone, 
"I  was  a  blamed  fool !" 

For  a  long  moment  they  sat  silent. 

"Carolyn  June,"  Skinny  finally  said,  a  sigh  of  res- 
ignation breaking  from  his  lips,  "I'll  be  what  you 


274  JHE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

said — just  a  good  friend — I  always  will  be  that  to 
you!  But  before  we  start  in,  do  you  mind  if  I — if 
I — go  up  to  Eagle  Butte  and  get — drunk !" 

In  spite  of  herself  she  laughed.  But  in  it  was  a 
tenderness  almost  mother-like. 

"Poor  disappointed,  big  boy,"  she  answered  and 
her  eyes  filled,  "if  it  will  make  you  happy,  go  ahead 
and  get — get — drunk,  'soused/  all  over — just  this 
once !" 

With  only  a  passing  pang  Carolyn  June  was  will- 
ing for  Skinny  to  get  drunk — to  do  the  thing  she  had 
been  scarcely  able  to  forgive  in  the  Ramblin'  Kid ! 

For  an  instant  she  wondered  why. 

A  half-hour  later  Skinny  and  Carolyn  June  went 
silently  down  the  grade  to  the  ranch  house.  They 
had  gone  up  the  hill — lovers ;  they  returned — "good 
friends" — and  such  they  would  always  be. 

It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  Sing  Pete  stopped 
the  grub-wagon  at  the  bunk-house ;  Pedro  wrangled 
the  saddle  cavallard  into  the  pasture  below  the  barn ; 
Parker  and  the  cowboys  jogged  their  bronchos  to 
the  stable  door  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  riding  the 
Gold  Dust  maverick — Captain  Jack  at  her  heels — 
rode  to  the  circular  corral,  jerked  the  saddle  from 
the  filly's  back  and  turned  the  little  roan  stallion  and 
the  outlaw  mare  inside  the  corral. 

Old  Heck  and  Skinny  heard  the  commotion  and 
went  out  to  where  Parker  and  the  cowboy*  were  un- 
saddling their  horses. 


A  SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT  275 

"Well,  you  got  through,  did  you?"  Old  Heck 
questioned  casually. 

"Yes,"  Parker  replied,  "we've  got  the  beef  crit- 
ters in  I  guess — they're  in  the  upland  pasture. 
There  are  seven  hundred  and  ninety,  I  think  it  is, 
that'll  do  for  the  market." 

"That's  pretty  good,"  Old  Heck  answered  with 
satisfaction.  "We'll  push  them  right  on  into  Eagle 
Butte  to-morrow  or  next  day  and  ship  them.  The 
cars  will  be  in  to-night,  the  agent  said.  I'm  sending 
them  to  Chicago  this  time.  I'd  like  to  see  you,  pri- 
vate, a  minute,  Parker!"  he  finished  abruptly. 

"What  do  you  want?"  Parker  asked  suspiciously, 
as  he  followed  Old  Heck  around  the  corner  of  the 
barn. 

"It's  about  Ophelia—"  Old  Heck  began. 

Parker's  heart  leaped  and  then  dropped  with  a 
sickening  foreboding  of  something  disagreeable. 
The  widow,  he  thought  instantly,  had  told  Old  Heck 
about  that  darned  fool  proposal  of  marriage  and 
was  going  to  insist  on  him  coming  across  and  mak- 
ing good !  There  was  no  way  out. 

"I — I — reckon  I'll  have  to  do  it  if  she's  deter- 
mined," Parker  stuttered;  "but— aw,  hell— I  must 
have  been  crazy — " 

"Who's  determined  on  what?"  Old  Heck  asked, 
puzzled  by  the  queer  jumble  coming  from  the  lips  of 
the  Quarter  Circle  KT  foreman,  "and  how  crazy?" 

"Ophelia  determined  on  marrying  me!"  Parker 
blurted  out. 


276  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Ophelia  marry  you?"  Old  Heck  exclaimed. 
"Marry  you !  She  can't !  Her  and  me  have  already 
s  done  it.  We  got  married  to-day — that  was  what  I 
wanted  to  tell  you !" 

Momentarily  a  pang  of  regret  shot  through  Par- 
ker's heart.  It  was  quickly  followed  by  a  sense  of 
relief. 

"You — you — and  Ophelia  married?"  he  stam- 
mered. 

"We  sure  are,"  Old  Heck  answered  positively. 
"We  done  it  to-day !" 

Suddenly  Parker  determined  to  "cover  up." 

"My,  lord!"  he  half-groaned,  pretending  terrible 
grief,  "this  is  awful!  It — it — come  so  sudden — but 
there  ain't  no  hard  feelings,  Old  Heck !  I — I — wish 
you  both  joy  and  happiness !" 

"Darned  if  that  ain't  white  of  you,  Parker!"  Old 
Heck  exclaimed,  immensely  relieved.  "I  won't  for- 
get it !  When  you  and  the  boys  take  them  steers  to 
Chicago,  stay  over  a  week  or  so  and  have  a  good 
time  and  count  it  in  on  expenses !" 

Parker  turned  his  head  and  in  the  darkness 
winked  solemnly  at  a  yellow  star  above  the  peak  of 
Sentinel  Mountain. 

He  and  Old  Heck  started  toward  the  house. 

"Hey,  you  fellows!"  Old  Heck  called,  pausing 
and  turning  toward  the  barn  where  the  cowboys 
were  putting  away  their  saddles,  "when  you  get 
through  all  of  you  come  on  up  to  the  house !  Ophelia 


A  SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT  277 

and  me's  married  and  the  bride  is  waiting  to  be  con- 
gratulated !" 

"Good  lord,"  Charley  gasped,  "hear  that,  fellers? 
Old  Heck  said  him  and  the  widow's  married!" 

"Gosh !"  Chuck  laughed,  "it  must  have  been  a  jolt 
to  Parker !  I  bet  his  heart's  plumb  bu'sted !" 

As  soon  as  their  saddles  were  put  away  the  cow- 
boys hurried  toward  the  house.  They  met  the  Ram- 
blin'  Kid,  crossing  from  the  circular  corral  to  the 
bunk-house. 

"Come  on,"  Bert  called  to  him,  "Old  Heck  and 
Ophelia's  gone  and  got  married !  We're  going  up  to 
the  house  to  sympathize  with  the  widow !" 

"I  ain't  needed,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  answered  with 
a  careless  laugh.  "You  fellers  can  take  my  'love'  to 
th'  afflicted  couple !" 

After  the  cowboys  had  gone  to  the  house  Skinny 
went  and  got  Old  Pie  Face.  Stopping  at  the  stable, 
he  saddled  the  pinto  and  strolled  over  to  the  bunk- 
house.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  was  lying  stretched  on 
his  bed.  Skinny  rolled  the  white  shirt  carefully  into 
a  bundle  and  wrapped  a  newspaper  around  it. 

"What  you  goin'  to  do?"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  asked. 

"I'm  goin'  to  town!"  Skinny  answered  shortly. 
"I'm  going  up  to  Eagle  Butte  and  get  on  a  hell  of 
a  drunk — if  I  can  get  hold  of  any  boot-leg  whisky 
— Carolyn  June  and  me  have  bu'sted  up  on  our 
love-making !" 

"Going  to  get  drunk,  are  you?"  the  Rambttn'  Kid 


278  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

queried  with  a  note  of  scorn  in  his  voice,  "an'  for- 
get your  sorrows  ?" 

"Yes,"  Skinny  retorted,  "I'm  going  to  get  drunk 
as  you  was  the  day  of  the  race !" 

"Drunk  as  I  was  th'  day  of  th'  race?"  the  Ram- 
blin'  Kid  repeated  quizzically.  "Oh,  hell,  yes — now 
I  understand — "  pausing,  while  a  smile  curled  his 
lips. 

"Yes,"  Skinny  retorted  again.  "Where'd  you  get 
yours  that  day?" 

"Never  mind,"  was  the  answer.  "I  guess  I'll  go 
to  Eagle  Butte  with  you !  You'll  need  somebody  to 
ride  herd  on  you  while  you're  snortin'  around.  Any- 
how, I  feel  like  goin'  on  a  tear  myself — not  a  drunk 
— a  man's  a  darned  fool  that'll  let  any  woman  make 
a  whisky  barrel  out  of  him !  But  I  got  an  itchin'  for 
a  little  poker  game  or  somethin'.  Wait  till  I  get 
Captain  Jack!" 

"Where's  Skinny  and  th'  Ramblin'  Kid?"  Old 
Heck  asked  after  he  and  Parker  and  the  cowboys 
were  at  the  house  and  the  first  flush  of  embarrass- 
ment had  passed. 

Carolyn  June  thought  she  knew  where  Skinny 
was,  but  did  not  answer. 

"I  don't  know  what's  become  of  Skinny,"  Parker 
said.  "Th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  probably  out  mopin' 
somewhere.  I  think  he's  getting  ready  to  'ramble' 
again — he's  been  acting  plumb  despondent  ever  since 
the  Rodeo  in  Eagle  Butte!" 

Carolyn  June  stepped  to  the  door.  Dimly  through 


A 'SHAME  TO  WASTE  IT          279 

Bie  clarkness  she  saw  two  riders  pass  up  the  grade 
that  led  to  the  bench  and  turn  their  horses  to  the 
west,  toward  Eagle  Butte,  and  ride  straight  into  the 
outflung  shadow  of  the  thunder-storm — from  which 
now  and  then  leaped  jagged  flashes  of  lightning — 
and  which  was  rolling  from  the  Costejo  Mountains 
across  the  Kiowa  range  in  the  direction  of  the  Quar- 
ter Circle  KT. 

Silent  and  with  a  heavy  heart  she  turned  away 
from  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS 

IT  WAS  long  after  midnight  when  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  and  Skinny  rode  into  Eagle  Butte  and  the 
heels  of  Captain  Jack  and  Old  Pie  Face  echoed  noisily 
on  the  board  floor  of  the  livery  stable  as  the  bron- 
chos turned  into  the  wide,  open  doorway  of  the 
barn.  -A  drowsy  voice  from  the  cubby-hole  of  an 
office  called : 

"In  just  a  minute — I'll  be  out !" 

"Aw,  thunder/'  Skinny  answered,  "go  on  back 
to  sleep,  we'll  find  stalls  and  put  'em  up!" 

Captain  Jack  and  Old  Pie  Face  cared  for,  Skinny 
and  the  Ramblin'  Kid  stepped  out  into  the  deserted 
street. 

Eagle  Butte  was  sleeping. 

Here  and  there  a  blaze  of  light  from  a  store  win- 
dow invited  belated  passers  to  covet  the  bargains 
offered  within;  a  half-dozen  incandescent  bulbs, 
swung  on  cross-wires  at  intervals  along  the  street, 
glowed  feebly  as  if  weary  with  the  effort  to  beat 
back  the  darkness  clutching  at  the  throat  of  the 
town;  over  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  the  Elite  Amuse- 
ment Parlor  an  illuminated  red  and  green  sign 

280 


A  Universal-Jewel  Production. 

"THE  LADY  AT  THE 


The  Rambliri  Kid. 
RANCH-SOME  CHICKEN.  EH  ?" 


THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS  281 

told  that  Mike  Sabota's  place  was  still  open;  across 
the  porch  of  the  Occidental  Hotel  and  spilling  itself 
on  the  ground  out  in  the  street  a  stream  of  light 
guided  weary  travelers  to  the  portals  of  that  ancient, 
though  hospitable,  institution;  from  the  sides  of  the 
Butte  beyond  the  railroad  tracks  a  coyote  yelped 
shrilly  a  jerky,  wailing  challenge — a  dozen  dogs, 
suddenly  aroused  in  different  parts  of  the  town,  an- 
swered. 

"Pretty    dead-lookin'/'    the    Ramblin'    Kid    re 
marked.  "Let's  go  down  to  Sabota's." 

"All  right,"  Skinny  replied  and  they  moved  dotfri 
the  street. 

The  pool-room  offered  nothing  of  interest  A 
couple  of  traveling  men,  waiting  for  the  early  morn- 
ing train,  were  playing  a  listless  game  of  billiards 
at  one  of  the  tables ;  a  pair  of  Jap  sugar-beet  work- 
ers and  a  negro  section  hand  sat  half -asleep  and 
leaned  against  the  wall;  "Red"  Jackson,  Sabota's 
chief  lieutenant,  with  an  air  of  utter  boredom, 
lounged  behind  the  soft-drink  bar.  Sabota  was  not 
there. 

"What's  happened  to  everybody?"  Skinny  asked; 
"where's  Mike?" 

"Everybody's  got  religion,  I  guess,"  Red  yawned, 
"and  gone  to  bed.  What  do  you  want  with  Sabota?" 
looking  suspiciously  at  the  Ramblin'  Kid ;  "he's  over 
at  Vegas ;  won't  be  back  till  to-morrow — or  to-day 
it  is  now,  I  reckon — evening  sometime !" 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  and  me  have  been  out  in  the 


282  [THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

rain,"  Skinny  said  suggestively,  "and  thought  we 
might  take  cold — " 

"Nothing  doing!"  Red  laughed,  "ain't  a  drop 
around!  When  Mike  gets  back  he'll  fix  you  up, 
maybe — that's  what  he's  gone  after !" 

"We'd  just  as  well  go  to  bed!"  Skinny  grum- 
bled disgustedly  to  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 

"I  reckon,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

They  returned  to  the  hotel,  roused  the  clerk  from 
his  doze,  secured  a  room  and  retired. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  when  they  got  up. 

Both  went  directly  to  the  livery  stable  and  saw 
that  Captain  Jack  and  Old  Pie  Face  were  properly 
attended  to.  While  at  the  barn  Skinny  took  the 
bundle  he  had  wrapped  in  the  bunk-house  at  the 
ranch  from  the  saddle  where  he  had  tied  it. 

"What's  that?"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  queried. 

"It's  that  darned  shirt!"  Skinny  retorted.  "I'm 
going  to  make  Old  Leon  eat  it — it  wasn't  the  size 
Parker  asked  for !" 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  laughed,  but  said  nothing. 

They  returned  to  the  hotel  and  had  breakfast. 
Manilla  Endora  waited  on  them.  Before  Carolyn 
June  and  Ophelia  came  to  the  Quarter  Circle  KT 
Manilla's  yellow  hair  and  blue  eyes  were  the  flames 
that  fanned  the  affections  of  Skinny.  He  felt  guilty 
as,  sweetly  as  ever  and  without  a  hint  of  reproach, 
Manilla  took  their  orders  and  served  them  with 
their  ham  and  eggs  and  coffee. 


THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS  283 

After  breakfast  Skinny  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
explored  the  town. 

Eagle  Butte  had  come  to  life.  The  stores  were 
open.  Business  was  brisk.  The  "dray"  was  deliver- 
ing the  express  accumulated  the  night  before  at  the 
depot.  Here  and  there  a  morning  shopper  was  pass- 
ing along  the  street.  At  the  post-office  there  was 
quite  a  crowd. 

Skinny  carried  the  shirt,  wrapped  in  the  soggy, 
rain-soaked  newspaper.  As  he  and  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  came  near  the  dingy,  general  merchandise  estab- 
lishment kept  by  the  squint-eyed  Jew  from  whom 
Parker  had  bought  the  unfortunate  garment  a  sud- 
den look  of  cunning  gleamed  in  the  eyes  of  Skinny. 
He  laughed  aloud.  A  box  of  eggs,  ten  or  twelve 
dozen  it  contained,  was  set,  with  other  farm  pro- 
duce, in  a  display  on  the  sidewalk  at  the  side  of  the 
door  of  the  store. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,"  Skinny  said  to  the  Ramblin' 
Kid,  stopping  in  front  of  the  Jew's  place  of  business, 
"I  got  an  idea — By  golly,"  he  continued  argumenta- 
tively  and  with  apparent  irrelevancy,  in  a  loud 
voice,  "I  tell  you  I'm  the  lightest  man  on  my  feet 
in  Texas!"  and  he  winked  knowingly  at  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid.  "I  can  walk  on  eggs  and  never  bu'st  a 
one !  I've  done  it  and" — as  Leon  came  to  the  door— 
"I'll  bet  four-bits  I  can  jump  in  that  box  of  eggs 
right  there  and  never  crack  a  shell !" 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  understood. 


284  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"Aw,  you're  crazy,"  he  laughed.  "I  don't  want 
to  win  your  money !" 

"What's  the  matter?"  Leon  asked  curiously,  hav- 
ing heard  only  part  of  Skinny 's  boast. 

"This  locoed  darn'  fool  thinks  he  can  walk  on 
them  eggs  an'  not  mash  'em!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
laughed  again.  "He  wants  to  bet  me  four-bits  he 
can—" 

"Walk  on  them  eggs  and  not  preak  them?"  Leon 
exclaimed  disdainfully.  "You  ought  to  lock  him 
up !  He  iss  crazy !" 

"By  gosh,"  Skinny  argued,  "you  don't  realize 
how  light-footed  I  am — I  can  jump  on  them,  I  tell 
you,  and  I  got  money  to  back  it  up !"  And  he  pulled 
a  half-dollar  from  his  pocket. 

"Put  away  your  money,  you  blamed  idiot — "  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  began. 

"I'll  bet  him  four-bits  he  can't!"  Leon  cried,  jerk- 
ing a  coin  from  his  own  pocket. 

Skinny  and  Leon  each  handed  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
fifty  cents. 

"By  thunder,  I  can,"  Skinny  said,  pausing,  "that 
is,  I'm  willing  to  bet  my  money  on  it — " 

"Vhy  don't  you  go  ahead  and  do  it,  then  ?"  Leon 
exclaimed.  "Vat  you  standing  there  for?  Vhy 
don't  you  do  it  if  you're  so  light  on  your  feet?" 

"Well,  I  can!"  Skinny  argued,  still  hesitating. 

"Den  go  ahead  and  chump — chump  I  told  you — 
into  the  box !"  Leon  shouted  excitedly. 

Skinny  jumped.  The  eggs  crushed  under  the  heels 


THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS  285 

of  his  riding  boots.  In  an  instant  the  box  was  filled 
with  a  squashy  mass  of  whites,  yolks  and  broken 
shells.  Skinny  pawed  around  until  there  wasn't  a 
whole  egg  left  in  the  box. 

At  the  first  crunch  Leon  laughed  hilariously. 

"I  knowed  you'd  lose !"  he  cackled.  "Gift  me  the 
money !" 

"You  win,  Leon!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  laughed, 
handing  over  the  wager.  "Skinny  wasn't  as  deli- 
cate on  his  feet  as  he  thought  he  was !" 

"Thunderation,  that's  funny!"  Skinny  said  so- 
berly as  he  stepped  out  of  the  box;  "it  wouldn't 
work  that  time!  Something  must  have  slipped!" 

With  a  grin  he  calmly  unwrapped  the  one-time 
white  shirt  and  with  it  began  to  wipe  the  slimy  mess 
from  his  boots. 

"The  next  time  you  won't  be  so  smart!"  Leon 
cried,  then  paused  in  consternation,  his  eyes  riveted 
on  the  scrambled  mixture  in  the  box.  "But  mine 
eggs!"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly  suspicious.  "Who 
pays  for  the  eggs?  There  vas  twelve  dozen — they 
are  worth  seventy  cents  a  dozen — that  is  more  as 
eight  dollars.  Pay  me  for  the  eggs !" 

"Pay,  hell !"  Skinny  said.  "I  didn't  agree  to  fur- 
nish no  eggs !  You  won  my  fifty  cents  and  th'  Ram- 
blin' Kid  gave  it  to  you — " 

"That's  right,  Leon,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  chuckled, 
"you  got  th'  four-bits — that's  all  you  won!" 

"But  pay  me — "  Leon  whined. 

"I'll  pay  you,  you  dirty  crook !"  Skinny  snapped 


286  '  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

as  he  slapped  the  soppy,  egg-splattered  shirt  in 
Leon's  face.  "I'll  pay  you  with  that!  The  next 
time,"  he  added  as  he  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid  started 
down  the  street — "anybody  asks  for  a  size  fifteen 
shirt  don't  give  them  a  sixteen  and  a  half !" 

The  day  was  spent  idling  about  town  waiting  for 
Sabota  to  return  so  Skinny  could  get  some  whisky 
and  drown  his  disappointment  in  love  in  intoxicated 
forget  fulness. 

After  supper  Skinny  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid  went 
to  the  picture  show — Tuesdays,  Thursdays  and  Sat- 
urdays were  "movie  nights"  in  Eagle  Butte — and 
saw  a  thrilling  "wild-west"  drama  in  which  a  band 
of  Holstein  milk  cows  raced  madly  through  an 
alfalfa  field  in  a  frenzied,  hair-raising  stampede! 
When  the  show  was  over  the  Ramblin'  Kid  started 
toward  the  livery  barn. 

"What  you  going  to  do  ?"  Skinny  queried. 

"I  was  just  goin'  to  get  Captain  Jack,"  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid  replied. 

"What  for?"  Skinny  asked  as  they  moved  toward 
the  barn.  "There  ain't  no  hurry  about  getting  back 
to  the  ranch.  We  won't  be  going  out  till  to-morrow 
or  next  day — there  ain't  no  use  getting  the  horses 
out  to-night." 

"I  don't  know,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  answered, 
without  stopping,  "I  just  got  a  hunch  to  get  him  in 
case  I  need  him.  Anyhow,  it  won't  hurt  him  to 
stand  out  a  while — they've  been  eatin'  all  day." 

"Then  I'll  get  Old  Pie  Face,  too,"  Skinny  replied. 


THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS  287 

They  saddled  the  bronchos  and  rode  out  of  the 
barn. 

"Where'll  we  go?"  Skinny  asked. 

"Reckon  we'd  better  go  back  down  to  Sabota's," 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  said  as  they  turned  their  horses  in 
the  direction  of  the  pool-room,  "if  you  still  insist 
on  makin'  a  blamed  fool  of  yourself  an'  gettin' 
drunk.  Maybe  Mike's  back  by  now.  Anyhow,  there 
might  be  a  little  poker  game  goin'  on — I  saw  a 
couple  of  the  fellers  from  over  on  th'  Purgatory 
come  in  a  while  ago !" 

They  left  Captain  Jack  and  Pie  Face  standing, 
with  bridle  reins  dropped,  across  the  street  and  in 
the  broad  shaft  of  light  streaming  from  the  open 
door  of  the  pool-room,  and  went  into  the  resort. 

The  place  was  well  filled.  Sabota  had  returned, 
evidently  with  an  ample  supply  of  the  fiery  stuff  he 
called  "whisky."  Like  vultures  that  unerringly  seek 
and  find  the  spot  where  a  carcass  has  fallen  the 
thirsty  of  Eagle  Butte  had  gathered  at  the  Elite 
Amusement  Parlor. 

Inside  the  door  of  the  pool-room  and  at  the  left, 
as  one  entered,  was  a  hardwood  bar  eighteen  or 
twenty  feet  long  and  over  which  at  one  time,  in  the 
days  before  Eagle  Butte  "reformed,"  had  been  dis- 
pensed real  "tarantula  juice."  The  back  bar,  with 
its  big  mirrors  and  other  fixtures,  was  as  it  had 
been  when  the  place  was  a  regular  saloon.  At  the 
right  of  the  room,  opposite  the  bar,  were  several 
round,  green-topped  card  tables.  In  the  rear  was 


288  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

the  billiard  and  pool  equipment,  which  entitled  the 
place  to  the  name  "pool-room."  Just  across  from 
the  farther  end  of  the  bar  and  near  the  last  card 
table  a  half-dozen  hard-looking,  small-town 
"toughs" — creatures  who  loafed  about  Sabota's  and 
aided  him,  as  occasion  required,  in  his  boot-legging 
operations  or  other  questionable  enterprises — were 
lounging,  some  standing,  some  sitting,  watching  a 
slow  poker  game  going  on  at  the  last  table.  Cards, 
under  the  laws  of  Texas,  are  taboo,  but  for  some 
reason  Sabota  managed  to  get  by  and  games  were 
allowed  in  his  place. 

The  two  cowboys  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had  men- 
tioned, a  rancher  from  the  irrigated  section  near 
Eagle  Butte  and  "Jeff"  Henderson,  one  of  Sabota's 
henchmen,  who  was  playing  for  the  house,  were 
sitting  in  at  the  game. 

Half-way  down  the  room  at  one  side  against  the 
wall  a  mechanical  player  piano  was  grinding  out 
garish,  hurdy-gurdy  music. 

"Red"  Jackson  was  dispensing  soft  drinks  from 
behind  the  bar. 

Sabota  himself,  with  one  heel  caught  on  the  brass 
foot-rail,  was  leaning  indolently  but  with  a  lordly 
air  against  the  front  of  the  polished,  imitation  ma- 
hogany counter. 

He  had  been  drinking  and  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves. 

As  Skinny  and  the  Ramblin'  Kid  stepped  into  the 
pool-room  Sabota  glanced  around.  For  an  instant 
he  eyed  the  Ramblin'  Kid  keenly  while  a  nasty  sneer 


THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS  289 

curled  his  lips.  As  they  approached  he  turned  the 
grin  into  a  hypocritical  smile  of  welcome.  The 
Ramblin'  Kid  barely  noticed  the  Greek  and  passed 
on  to  where  the  card  game  was  in  progress.  Skinny 
paused  and  said  something  in  a  low  tone  to  Sabota. 
The  two  walked  to  the  rear  end  of  the  bar  where  the 
proprietor  of  the  place  in  turn  spoke  to  Red  and  the 
latter  furtively  handed  a  pint  bottle  to  the  cowboy 
and  which  he  dropped  into  the  bosom  of  his  flannel 
shirt. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  was  recognized  by  the  cow- 
boys from  the  Purgatory. 

"Come  on  and  get  into  the  game !"  one  of  them 
invited,  moving  over. 

"Yes,"  Henderson  added,  hitching  his  own  chair 
to  one  side  to  make  room  for  another,  "the  cards 
are  running  like" — he  paused — "like  the  Gold  Dust 
maverick  for  everybody  but  the  house!"  There 
was  a  laugh  at  the  subtle  reference  to  the  outlaw 
filly  that  had  cost  Sabota  so  much  in  losses  on  the 
sweepstakes  at  the  Rodeo. 

The  Greek  scowled. 

"In  that  case,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  drawled,  "I 
reckon  I'll  ride  'em  a  few  rounds!"  dropping  into 
the  chair  he  had  dragged  forward  and  which  placed 
him  with  his  back  toward  the  bar. 

"What  they  costin'  a  stack?"  he  questioned, 
reaching  to  the  left  breast  pocket  of  his  shirt  for  a 
roll  of  bills. 

In  the  same  pocket  was  the  pink  satin  garter  Caro- 


290  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

lyn  June  had  lost  the  morning  of  his  first  meeting 
with  her  at  the  circular  corral. 

"Five  bones !"  Jeff  answered  languidly. 

"Well,  give  me  a  couple  of  piles,"  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  replied,  glancing  around  at  the  cowboy  sitting 
at  his  right,  who  had  invited  him  into  the  game. 
"How's  the  Purgatory?" 

As  the  bills  came  from  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  pocket 
the  silver  butterfly  clasp  of  the  garter  caught  in  the 
paper  currency  and  the  elastic  band  was  drawn  out 
and  dropped,  at  the  side  of  his  chair,  on  the  floor 
next  to  Sabota. 

The  Greek  and  Skinny  saw,  at  the  same  time,  the 
dainty  satin  ribbon. 

Sabota  stepped  quickly  forward  and  with  the  toe 
of  his  shoe  kicked  the  garter  toward  the  bar,  where 
all  could  see  it. 

"Look  what  th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  been  carrying!" 
he  exclaimed  with  a  coarse  laugh.  "Some  size 
garter,  that !"  And  guessing  at  random  that  it  had 
belonged  to  Carolyn  June,  he  added:  "Old  Heck's 
niece  must  be — damned  convenient  and  accommo- 
dating!" 

A  laugh  started  from  the  lips  of  the  crowd.  It 
was  instantly  checked  and  a  dead  silence  followed 
as  ttae  Ramblin'  Kid  looked  around,  saw  Sabota 
leering  down  at  the  trinket  and  heard  his  vulgar 
insinuation.  He  slowly  pushed  his  chair  back  from 
the  table  and  with  eyes  half -closed — the  lids  tight- 
ening until  there  were  but  narrow  slits  through  which 


THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS  291 

the  black  pupils  burned  like  drops  of  jet — he  began 
slowly  to  straighten  up.  Not  a  sound  came  from  his 
lips  save  the  deep,  regular  breathing  those  sitting 
near  could  hear  and  which  was  like  a  bellows  fan- 
ning embers  into  a  white  heat.  His  mouth  was 
drawn  back  in  a  smile,  almost  caressing  in  its  soft- 
ness, but  a  thousand  times  more  menacing  than  the 
black  scowl  on  the  face  of  the  Greek. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid's  gun  was  at  his  hip,  but  he 
made  no  move  to  draw  it. 

Sabota  watched  the  slender  young  cowboy.  A 
look  of  contempt  and  derision  was  in  his  eyes.  The 
Greek  was  no  taller,  but  full  eighty  pounds  heavier 
than  the  other.  But  he  forgot  that  the  other's  lithe 
body  moving  with  the  calm,  undulating  grace  of  a 
panther  preparing  to  spring  was  all  clean  youth, 
muscle  and  courage,  unbroken  by  any  debauchery! 

"That's  a  hell  of  a  thing  for  a  man  to  pack,"  the 
giant  bully  cried  nastily,  "and  it's  a  hell  of  a  lady 
that  gives  it  to  a  man  to  pack !" 

With  a  sneering  laugh  he  raised  his  foot  and 
brought  it  down  on  the  garter,  grinding  the  silver 
clasp  and  the  satin  ribbon  under  the  sole  of  his  shoe. 

"You  damned  black  cur!"  The  Rambling'  Kid 
spoke  scarcely  louder  than  a  whisper,  yet  his  voice 
echoed  throughout  the  tense  silence  of  the  room. 
"I'll  put  my  heel  in  your  face  for  that!" 

Sabota  threw  back  his  head  to  laugh. 

For  a  second  of  time  the  Ramblin'  Kid  crouched, 
then  shot  through  the  air  like  a  wire  spring  drawn 


292  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

far  back  and  suddenly  released,  and  with  all  his  hun- 
dred and  forty  pounds  of  nerve  and  sinew  behind  if 
his  right  fist  smashed  the  big  Greek  squarely  on  the 
half-open  mouth,  splitting  the  thick  lip  wide  and 
causing  a  red  stream  to  spurt  from  the  gash.  Sa- 
bota*  staggered  back  and  would  have  fallen  had  he 
not  crashed  against  the  hardwood  bar. 

As  the  Greek  reeled  away  from  the  garter  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  stooped  quickly  forward,  picked  up 
the  elastic  and  dropped  it  again  into  his  pocket. 

With  a  roar  like  a  mad  bull  Sabota  rushed  his 
slight  antagonist.  Lunging  forward,  blind  with 
rage,  he  aimed  a  murderous  blow  at  the  head  of 
the  Ramblin'  Kid.  The  cowboy  ducked,  but  not  in 
time  to  escape  the  wide  swing  of  the  massive,  hairy 
fist.  The  Greek's  knuckles  raked  the  side  of  the  Kid's 
face  and  the  blood  rained  down  his  cheek  from  a 
cruel  cut  under  the  eye.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  spun 
around  like  a  top  and  for  the  fraction  of  a  second 
stood  swaying  uncertainly. 

For  a  moment  they  faced  each  other,  crouching, 
watching  for  an  opening.  Sabota's  great  hands 
worked  convulsively,  eager  to  grasp  and  crush  his 
wiry  opponent;  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  with  lips  curled 
back  from  white  teeth,  like  a  pure-bred  terrier  cir- 
cling a  mastiff,  bent  forward,  every  muscle  tense  as 
drawn  copper,  his  eyes  cold  as  a  rattler's  as  he 
searched  for  a  place  to  strike ! 

The  crowd  in  the  pool-room  instinctively  kept  far 
back  and  gave  the  unequal  combatants  ample  room. 


THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS  293 

From  Sabota's  lips  poured  a  steady  torrent  of  blas- 
phemy. The  Ramblin'  Kid  made  no  sound  as,  with 
body  swaying  slowly  from  side  to  side,  his  shoulders 
heaved  with  the  full,  heavy  breaths  that  reached  to 
the  bottom  of  his  lungs. 

Suddenly,  like  some  wild  beast,  Sabota  sprang 
forward.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  met  him — in  mid-air 
— right  and  left  jolting,  almost  at  the  same  in- 
stant, into  the  beefy  jaws  of  the  Greek.  At  the 
impact  a  claw-like  hand  shot  out  and  the  gorilla 
fingers  of  the  left  hand  of  the  brute-man  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid  fought,  closed  over  the  throat  of  the 
cowboy.  Sabota  threw  his  right  arm  around  the 
back  of  his  antagonist,  gripping  the  shoulder  on 
the  far  side  of  his  body  and  drew  the  slender  form 
toward  him — pinning  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  left  arm 
and  hand  to  his  side. 

Skinny's  hand  dropped  to  the  butt  of  his  gun  and 
rested  there. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  struggled  desperately  in  the 
strangling  grasp  of  the  crazed  Greek.  The  two 
reeled  back  and  forth,  crashing  chairs  and  tables  to 
the  floor,  and  lunged  against  the  bar.  The  Ramblin' 
Kid's  gun  fell  from  its  scabbard  at  the  side  of  the 
brass  foot-rail.  Sabota's  eyes  glared  down  into  the 
face  of  the  man  he  was  choking  to  death — gleaming 
with  the  ferocity  of  an  animal  gone  mad— -while 
bloody  foam  spewed  from  his  bleeding  lips.  The  cow- 
boy's face  was  beginning  to  flush  a  terrible  purple  as 
the  breath  was  gradually  crushed  from  his  body. 


294  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

As  the  Greek  forced  him  back,  bending  him  down 
and  over,  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  his  eyes  burning  like  fire 
while  a  million  flashes  of  light  seemed  to  stab  the 
darkness  before  them  and  needles  darted  through 
every  fiber  of  his  flesh,  wrenched  his  right  arm  free 
and  gripping  the  back  of  Sabota's  shirt  with  his  left 
hand  to  give  purchase  to  the  blow,  with  all  the 
strength  left  in  his  body,  drove  the  knuckles  of  his 
right  fist  into  the  left  temple  of  the  Greek. 

The  blow  went  home. 

A  film,  like  a  veil  drawn  across  the  fiendish  glare 
in  them,  spread  over  the  eyes  of  Sabota,  his  grip  on 
the  throat  of  the  cowboy  relaxed  and  as  a  bull, 
struck  by  the  hammer  of  the  butcher,  he  dropped  to 
the  floor. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  crouched,  panting,  over  the 
massive  bulk. 

Sabota  slowly  opened  his  eyes  and  started  to  raise 
his  battered  head.  With  a  laugh  the  cowboy  swung 
terrible  right  and  left  blows  into  the  Greek's  face. 
The  head  dropped  back. 

Again  the  Ramblin'  Kid  stooped  low,  waiting  for 
another  sign  of  life  from  the  prostrate  form. 

Red  Jackson  slipped  from  behind  the  bar,  half 
bent  forward,  moved  stealthily  up  behind  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid;  one  hand  drawn  partly  back  held,  by 
the  neck,  a  heavy  beer  bottle.  Skinny  saw  his  in- 
tention. Instantly  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  cowboy's 
forty- four  was  jerked  from  its  holster  and  the  blue- 
steel  barrel  swung  against  the  side  of  the  bartender's 


THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS  295 

head.  He  pitched  over  in  a  limp  heap  and  the  bottle 
crushed  against  the  brass  foot-rail,  breaking  into  a 
thousand  fragments.  A  half-dozen  of  Sabota's  crowd 
started  forward.  Skinny's  gun  whipped  around  in 
front  of  him. 

"Keep  back,  y'  sons-of-hell !"  he  snarled,  "Sabo- 
ta's gettin'  what's  coming  to  him !" 

The  Greek's  eyes  opened.  His  fingers  touched  the 
butt  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  revolver  and  began  to 
close  slowly  over  the  handle  of  the  weapon. 

"Make  him  quit,"  one  of  the  pool-room  loafers 
whined;  "he's  killed  him!" 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  saw  Sabota  reach  for  the  gun. 
He  answered  the  speaker  and  the  Greek's  effort  to 
get  the  forty- four  at  the  same  time : 

"Not  yet — but  now!"  he  cried  with  a  low  laugh 
and  leaped  with  both  heels  squarely  on  the  bloody 
face  of  Sabota!  There  was  a  horrible  crunching 
sound  as  of  bones  and  flesh  being  ground  into  pulp. 
The  fingers  about  to  close  on  the  handle  of  the  re- 
volver grew  limp,  the  Greek's  head,  a  hideous, 
scarcely  recognizable  mass,  slumped  to  one  side  and 
lay  perfectly  still. 

An  instant  longer  the  Ramblin*  Kid  looked  at 
him,  then  reached  over,  picked  up  his  gun  and 
slipped  it  into  the  holster  at  his  hip. 

As  he  straightened  up,  Tom  Poole,  the  marshal, 
rushed  into  the  pool-room.  He  covered  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  with  his  revolver  and  placed  him  under  arrest. 

"You  don't  need  to  get  excited,  Tom !"  the  Ram- 


296  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Win*  Kid  laughed.  "I  didn't  do  nothin'  but  kill 
that  damned  black  cur  layin'  there!  Come  on — I 
want  to  get  out  in  th'  air — I  never  like  to  stay 
around  where  dead  skunks  are!" 

They  moved  toward  the  door. 

Poole  dropped  his  gun  back  in  its  scabbard  and 
walked  at  the  side  of  the  now  apparently  peaceful 
young  cowboy. 

At  the  door  the  marshal  looked  around : 

"Some  of  you  fellers  get  the  doctor  or  under- 
taker— whichever  he  needs — and  take  care  of  Sa- 
bota!"  he  called  to  the  group  around  the  body  of 
the  Greek. 

Like  a  flash  the  muzzle  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  gun 
was  pressed  against  the  side  of  Poole. 

"Put  'em  up,  Tom !"  he  snapped,  "I  don't  want  to 
kill  you,  but  I  will  if  I  have  to — I  ain't  goin'  to  rot 
in  no  jail  just  for  stampin'  a  dirty  snake  to  death !" 

The  marshal's  hands  shot  into  the  air  as  if  oper- 
ated by  springs. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid,  with  his  left  hand,  jerked 
Poole's  revolver  from  its  holster.  He  backed  into 
the  street  toward  where  Captain  Jack  and  Old  Pie 
Face  were  standing,  still  with  his  own  gun  covering 
the  officer. 

"Jack !"  he  cried  sharply,  "meet  me !" 

The  little  stallion  moved  toward  him. 

With  the  thumb  of  the  hand  in  which  he  held  the 
marshal's  gun  the  Ramblin'  Kid  threw  open  the 
breech  and  flipped  the  shells  on  the  ground.  He 


THE  GREEK  GETS  HIS  297 

tossed  the  empty  forty- four  to  one  side,  threw 
the  reins  over  Captain  Jack's  head  and  the  next 
instant  v,  as  in  the  saddle.  The  broncho  wheeled  and 
was  gone,  in  a  dead  run,  toward  the  west 

The  marshal  rushed  into  the  street  and  picked  up 
his  gun,  jerked  some  cartridges  from  his  belt, 
slipped  them  into  the  cylinder  and  fired  quickly  at 
the  fleeing  horse  and  rider. 

The  bullets  whistled  past  the  ear  of  the  Ramblin' 
Kid. 

He  raised  his  own  weapon,  half-turned  in  the 
saddle,  dropped  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  forward  until 
it  pointed  at  the  flashes  spitting  from  the  officer's 
revolver.  His  finger  started  to  tighten  on  the  trig- 
ger. 

"Hell,"  he  muttered,  "what's  the  use?  Tom's 
just  doin'  what  he  thinks  he  has  to  do!"  and  the 
Ramblin'  Kid  slipped  the  gun,  unfired,  back  into  its 
holster. 

A  moment  later  Captain  Jack  whirled  to  the  right 
across  the  Santa  Fe  tracks  and  bearing  a  little  to  the 
east,  in  the  direction  of  Capaline,  the  dead  volcano 
that  rises  out  of  the  lavas  northwest  of  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT,  between  the  Purgatory  and  the  Cimat- 
ron,  disappeared  in  the  black  starlit  night. 


CHAPTER  XX 

MOSTLY  SKINNY 

IT  IS  a  week  to  the  day  since  the  fight  in  the  Elite 
Amusement  Parlor  in  Eagle  Butte.  Since  the 
Ramblin'  Kid,  followed  by  the  wicked  sing  of  the 
bullets  from  the  marshal's  gun,  disappeared  in  the 
darkness  no  word  has  come  from  the  fugitive  cow- 
boy who  beat  to  a  pulp  the  burly  Greek. 

The  Gold  Dust  maverick  paces  uneasily  about  in 
the  circular  corral  and  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  has 
settled  into  the  hum-drum  routine  of  ranch  life. 

Parker,  Charley,  Chuck  and  Bert  are  gone  to 
Chicago  with  the  train-load  of  beef  cattle.  Skinny 
bosses  a  gang  of  "picked-up"  hay  hands  Old  Heck 
brought  out  from  Eagle  Butte  to  harvest  the  second 
cutting  of  alfalfa.  Pedro  rides  line  daily  on  the  up- 
land pasture  and  Sing  Pete  hammers  the  iron  tri- 
angle morning,  noon  and  night,  announcing  the 
regular  arrival  of  meal -time.  The  Chinaman  is 
careful  when  he  throws  out  empty  tomato-cans — 
turning  back  the  tin  to  make  it  impossible  for  the 
yellow  cat  again  to  fasten  his  head  in  one  of  the 
inviting  traps,  and  the  cook  would  imperil  the  hope 
of  the  return  of  his  soul  to  the  flowery  Orient  before 

298 


MOSTLY  SKINNY  '  299 

he  would  put  butter  in  the  bottom  of  a  can  to  entice 
the  animal  into  trouble. 

Old  Heck  and  Ophelia  are  like  a  pair  of  nesting 
doves  and  there  is  a  new  vigor  to  the  step  of  the 
owner  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT,  a  revived  interest 
in  affairs  generally;  years  seem  to  have  fallen  from 
his  shoulders. 

Carolyn  June  smiles  sweetly  as  ever  at  Skinny, 
spends  much  time  riding  alone  over  the  valley  and 
hills;  in  her  eyes  there  has  come  a  more  thoughtful 
— often  a  wistful — expression. 

Sabota  did  not  die. 

After  the  escape  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid  the  mar- 
shal reentered  the  pool-room  and  had  the  big  Greek 
removed  to  the  hotel.  A  doctor  was  called  and  set 
as  well  as  possible  the  broken  jaws,  the  crushed  nose, 
picked  out  the  fragments  of  bone  and  the  loosened 
teeth,  sewed  up  the  terrible  gashes  on  Sabota's  face 
and  left  the  bully  groaning  and  profaning  in  half- 
conscious  agony. 

The  night  of  the  fight  Skinny  took  Old  Pie  Face 
back  to  the  barn. 

The  cowboy's  heart  was  heavy  with  remorse.  He 
blamed  himself  for  all  the  trouble.  Had  he  not 
wanted  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  and  get  drunk 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  would  not  have  come  to  Eagle 
Butte,  the  fight  would  not  have  occurred,  the  friend 
he  had  ridden  with  through  storm  and  sunshine— 
with  whom  he  had  stood  "night  guard"  and  fought 


300  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

mad  stampedes  into  "the  mill" — would  not  now  be 
an  outcast  sought  by  the  hand  of  the  law. 

News  of  the  beating  the  Ramblin'  Kid  gave  Sa- 
bota  traveled  fast. 

It  was  flashed  over  Eagle  Butte  that  the  Greek 
was  dead. 

"So  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  killed  old  Sabota,  did  he?" 
the  hostler  at  the  livery  barn  asked  Skinny  as  he 
stepped  out  to  care  for  the  cowboy's  horse.  "What 
was  it  over?  Sabota  having  th'  Rarnblin'  Kid 
Moped'  the  day  of  the  sweepstakes?" 

Skinny  looked  keenly,  searchingly,  at  the  stable- 
man. 

"What  do  you  mean — 'Sabota  having  th'  Ram- 
blin' Kid  doped  ?'  "  he  asked  sharply. 

"Why,  didn't  you  know?"  the  hostler  replied.  "I 
thought  everybody  knowed.  Gyp  Streetor  told  me 
about  it  the  day  of  the  race — I  used  to  know  Gyp 
when  he  was  a  kid  back  east.  I  saw  him  as  he  was 
beating  it  to  get  out  of  town.  He  borrowed  five 
dollars  from  me.  Said  Sabota  hired  him  to  put 
'knock-out'  in  some  coffee  for  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  and 
he  reckoned  the  dose  wasn't  big  enough  or  some- 
thing. Anyhow,  it  didn't  hold  him  under  long  as 
they  thought  it  would  and  when  he  saw  the  Gold 
Dust  maverick  show  up  on  the  track  he  got  scared 
— was  afraid  it  would  leak  out  or  th'  Ramblin'  Kid 
would  suspect  him  and  try  to  'get'  him  after  the 
race,  so  he  ducked  out  of  town — " 

"You  ain't  lying  about  that  ?"  Skinny  asked. 


MOSTLY  SKINNY  301 

"What  would  I  want  to  lie  about  it  for?"  the 
other  replied.  "Wasn't  that  what  made  th'  Ram- 
blin'  Kid  kill  the  Greek  ?" 

"No,  it  was  something  else,"  Skinny  answered; 
"but  Sabota  ain't  dead.  He's  just  crunched  up  pretty 
bad — th'  Ramblin'  Kid  jumped  on  him,  like  Cap- 
tain Jack  did  on  that  feller  from  the  Chickasaw 
that  tried  to  steal  him !" 

Skinny's  mind  was  in  a  whirl. 

So  the  Ramblin'  Kid  was  not  drunk  the  day  of 
the  race!  He  was  drugged — sick — yet,  in  spite  of 
everything,  rode  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  and  beat 
the  black  wonder-horse  from  the  Vermejo !  Lord ! 
and  they  had  all  thought  he  was  on  a  tear ! 

The  bottle  of  whisky  was  still  in  the  bosom  of 
Skinny's  shirt. 

He  had  not  touched  it.  He  felt  a  sudden  revulsion 
for  the  vile  stuff. 

"Here,"  he  said,  jerking  the  flask  from  its  hiding- 
place  and  handing  it  to  the  hostler,  "maybe  you'd 
like  that  bottle  of  'rot-gut' — I've  swore  off !" 

"I  ain't,"  the  stableman  laughed  and  took  it 
eagerly. 

Skinny  remained  in  town  that  night  and  the  next 
day,  waiting  for  Parker  and  the  Quarter  Circle  KT 
cowboys  to  come  in  with  the  beef  cattle.  They  ar- 
rived about  noon.  Old  Heck  drove  in  with  the  Clag- 
stone  "Six."  Ophelia  and  Carolyn  June  came  with 
him.  Skinny  met  them  when  Old  Heck  stopped  the 
car  in  front  of  the  Occidental  Hotel.  He  told  them, 


302  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

while  they  still  sat  in  the  automobile,  of  the  fight  and 
the  escape  of  the  Ramblin'  Kid. 

"A  drunken  brawl!"  Carolyn  Tune  thought,  a 
wave  of  disgust  sweeping  over  her. 

"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  hadn't  touched  a  drop," 
Skinny  said,  explaining  the  fight  and  almost  as  if  he 
were  answering  her  unspoken  thought.  "If  he'd  been 
drinking,  I  reckon  Sabota  would  have  killed  him  in- 
stead of  his  beating  the  Greek  blamed  near  to  death. 
I  know  now  what  he  used  to  mean  when  he'd  say, 
'A  man's  a  fool  to  put  whisky  in  him  when  he's 
facin'  a  tight  squeeze !'  The  little  devil  sure  needed 
everything  he  had — nerve  and  head  and  muscle  and 
all — for  the  job  he  tackled  last  night !" 

Skinny  didn't  tell  them  that  his  hand  had  rested 
on  the  handle  of  his  own  gun — determined  that  he, 
himself,  would  kill  Sabota  if  the  brute  succeeded  in 
choking  the  Ramblin'  Kid  to  death. 

"What  was  the  right  about  ?"  Old  Heck  asked. 

"A  pink  ribbon  or  something  with  a  little  silver 
do- funny  on  it — it  looked  like  a  sleeve-holder  or  a 
garter — dropped  out  of  th'  Ramblin'  Kid's  pocket 
and  Sabota  made  a  nasty  remark  about  it,"  Skinny 
said. 

Carolyn  June  caught  her  breath  and  her  face 
flushed. 

"The  Greek  said  something  about  Carolyn  June, 
I  didn't  just  hear  what,"  Skinny  continued,  "and 
then  he  smashed  the  ribbon  under  his  foot.  The 
next  instant  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  was  trying  to  kill  him ! 


MOSTLY  SKINNY  303 

"It's  a  pity  he  didn't  succeed!"  Old  Heck  ex- 
claimed. "The  damned  filthy  whelp — excuse  me, 
Ophelia,  for  cussing,  but  I  just  had  to  say  it !" 

"It's  all  right,"  was  the  laughing  rejoinder,  "I — 
I — wanted  to  say  it  myself !" 

Carolyn  June's  eyes  glowed.  Her  heart  felt  as  if  a 
weight  had  been  lifted  from  it  So,  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  had  kept  the  odd  souvenir,  and  he  cared — he 
cared ! 

"Go  ahead,"  she  whispered  to  Skinny;  "what 
then?" 

"I  reckon  that's  about  all,"  Skinny  answered. 
"Th'  Ramblin'  Kid  smashed  Sabota  and  as  he  stag- 
gered back,  picked  up  the  ribbon — then  he  didn't 
quit  till  he  thought  the  Greek  was  dead.  Tom  Poole 
arrested  him,  but  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  got  the  drop  on 
him  and  got  away.  He  was  justified  in  beating  Sa- 
bota up  anyhow,"  he  added,  "on  account  of  the 
dirty  cuss  hiring  a  feller  to  'dope'  him  so  he  couldn't 
ride  the  maverick  the  day  of  the  big  race — 

"  'Dope'  him  ?"  Old  Heck  interrupted,  puzzled. 

"Yes,"  Skinny  explained,  "the  Greek  had  a  feller 
named  Gyp  Streetor  put  some  stuff  in  th'  Ramblin' 
Kid's  coffee.  He  wasn't  drunk  at  all — he  was  just 
poisoned  with  'knock-out !' ' 

"Good  lord!"  Old  Heck  exclaimed.  "And  he  rode 
that  race  when  he  was  drugged!  While  we  all 
thought  he'd  gone  to  pieces  and  was  drunk !" 

Carolyn  June's  cheeks  suddenly  turned  pale.  He 
cared,  but  he  was  gone!  Perhaps  never  to  come 


304  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

back!  It  seemed  as  if  an  iron  hand  was  clutching 
at  her  throat ! 

She  and  Ophelia  went  into  the  hotel  and  Old  Heck 
and  Skinny  drove  the  car  over  to  the  stock-yards 
where  the  cattle  were  being  loaded. 

After  Parker  and  the  cowboys  were  on  their  way 
east  with  the  steers  and  before  he  returned  to  the 
ranch  Old  Heck  went  into  the  room  in  which  Sa- 
bota  lay.  The  Greek's  head  was  a  mass  of  white 
bandages.  His  eyes  battered  and  swollen  shut,  he 
could  not  see  the  face  of  his  visitor. 

For  a  moment  Old  Heck  looked  at  him,  his  lips 
parted  in  a  smile  of  contempt  lightened  with  satis- 
faction. 

"Well,  Sabota,"  he  said  at  last,  "th'  Ramblin'  Kid 
didn't  quite  do  his  duty,  did  he?  If  he  had  gone  as 
far  as  he  ought  to  you  wouldn't  be  laying  there — 
they'd  just  about  now  be  hiding  your  dirty  carcass 
under  six  feet  of  'dobe !' ' 

Sabota  mumbled  some  guttural,  unintelligible 
reply. 

"Listen,  you  infernal  skunk,"  Old  Heck  went  on 
coldly,  "as  quick  as  you're  able  to  travel  you'll  find 
Eagle  Butte's  a  right  good  place  to  get  away  from ! 
You  understand  what  I  mean.  If  I  catch  you 
around,  well,  I  won't  use  no  fists!"  And  without 
waiting  for  an  answer  he  turned  and  left  the  room. 

The  owner  of  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  then  hunted 
up  the  marshal  of  Eagle  Butte. 

"Tom,"  he  said,  "I  reckon  you'll  be  looking  some 


MOSTLY  SKINNY  305 

for  th'  Ramblin'  Kid,  after  what  happened  last 
night,  won't  you?" 

The  marshal  had  heard  of  Sabota's  effort  to  have 
the  young  cowboy  drugged  the  day  of  the  race  and 
also  the  immediate  cause  for  the  fight. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  as  I  will,"  he  said,  "unless  the 
Greek  makes  some  charge  or  other.  I  don't  imaging 
he'll  do  that." 

"I  know  blamed  well  he  won't  1"  Old  Heck  inter- 
rupted. "But  how  about  th'  Ramblin'  Kid  putting 
his  gun  in  your  ribs — resisting  an  officer  and  so  on?" 

"Putting  his  gun  in  my  ribs?  Resisting  an  of- 
ficer?" the  lanky  Missourian  answered  with  a  sly 
grin;  "who  said  he  put  a  gun  on  me — or  resisted 
an  officer  or  anything?  I  ain't  heard  nothing 
about  it !" 

Two  days  later  Sabota,  with  the  help  of  "Red" 
Jackson,  managed  to  get  to  the  Santa  Fe  station. 
He  was  able  to  travel  and  he  did  travel.  Jackson 
said  he  went  to  the  "Border."  Eagle  Butte  did  not 
know  or  care — the  Cimarron  town  was  through 
with  him. 

When  Old  Heck,  Carolyn  June  and  Ophelia  re- 
turned to  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  the  evening  of  the 
day  following  the  fight,  the  Gold  Dust  maverick 
whinnied  lonesomely  from  the  circular  corral  as  the 
Clagstone  "Six"  stopped  in  front  of  the  house. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  with  that  filly?"  Old 
Heck  asked,  looking  at  the  beautiful  creature  withi 
her  head  above  the  bars  of  the  corral  gate. 


'306  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"I  am  going  to  ride  her!"  Carolyn  June  said 
softly.  "Until  the  Ramblin'  Kid  comes  back  and 
claims  her  she  is  mine!  She  loves  me  and  I  can 
handle  her!" 

"I'm  afraid — "  Old  Heck  started  to  protest. 

"You  need  not  be,"  Carolyn  June  interrupted, 
"the  Gold  Dust  maverick  and  I  know  each  other — 
she  understands  me  and  I  understand  her — she  will 
be  perfectly  gentle  with  me !" 

The  next  day  Carolyn  June  rode  the  wonderful 
outlaw  mare.  It  was  as  she  said.  The  filly  was  per- 
fectly gentle  with  her.  After  that,  every  day,  the 
girl  saddled  the  Gold  Dust  maverick  and,  unafraid, 
took  long  rides  alone. 

The  night  the  cattle  were  shipped  Skinny  had 
supper  in  Eagle  Butte.  He  sat  alone  at  a  small  table 
at  one  side  of  the  dining-room  in  the  Occidental 
Hotel.  The  cowboy  was  the  picture  of  utter  misery. 
Parker,  Charley,  Chuck,  Bert  were  gone  to  Chicago 
with  steers;  the  Ramblin'  Kid  was  gone — nobody 
knew  where;  Skinny's  dream  about  Carolyn  June 
was  gone — she  didn't  love  him,  she  just  liked  him; 
even  his  whisky  was  gone,  he  had  given  it  to  the 
hostler  at  the  barn;  he  didn't  have  any  friends  or 
anything. 

"What's  the  matter,  Skinny?"  Manilla  Endora, 
the  yellow-haired  waitress,  asked  softly,  as  she 
stepped  up  to  the  table  and  looked  down  a  moment 
at  the  deiected  cowboy.  There  was  something  in 


MOSTLY  SKINNY  307 

her  voice  that  made  Skinny  pity  himself  more  than 
ever.  It  made  him  want  to  cry.  "What's  wrong?" 
Manilla  repeated,  almost  tenderly. 

"Everything!"  Skinny  blurted  out,  dropping  his 
head  on  his  arms.  "The  whole  blamed  works  is  shot 
to  pieces !" 

A  little  smile  stole  over  Manilla's  rosy  lips. 

"I  know  what  it  is,"  she  said  gently,  unreproach- 
fully;  "it's  that  girl,  Carolyn  June.  Yes,  it  is,"  as 
Skinny  started  to  interrupt.  "Oh,  I  don't  blame  you 
for  falling  for  her!"  she  went  on.  "She  is  nice — but, 
well,  Skinny-boy,"  her  voice  was  a  caress,  "Old 
Heck's  niece  is  not  the  sort  for  you.  You  and  her 
wouldn't  fit  at  all — the  way  you  wanted — and  any- 
how, there — there — are  others,"  coloring  warmly. 

Skinny  looked  up  into  the  honest  blue  eyes. 

"You  ain't  sore  at  me  or  anything  are  you,  Ma- 
nilla?" he  asked.  . 

"Sore?"  she  answered.   "Of  course  not!" 

Hope  sprung  again  into  his  heart.  "I — I — thought 
maybe  you  would  be,"  he  stammered. 

"Forget  it!"  she  laughed.  "The  old  world  still 
wobbles !" 

"Manilla,  you — you're  a  peach !"  he  cried. 

She  chuckled.  "Did  you  hear  about  that  dance 
next  Saturday  night  after  the  picture  show?"  she 
asked  archly. 

"No.  Is  there  one?"  with  new  interest  in  life. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  her  lashes  drooping  demurely; 
"they  say  the  music  is  going  to  be  swell." 


308  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"If  I  come  in  will  you — will  we — go,  Manilla?" 
he  asked  eagerly. 

They  would. 

"Poor  Skinny,"  Manilla  murmured  to  herself  as 
she  went  to  the  kitchen  to  get  his  order,  "poor  cuss 
— he  can't  keep  from  breaking  his  heart  over  every 
skirt  that  brushes  against  him,  but" — and  she 
laughed  softly — "darn  his  ugly  picture,  I  like  him 
anyhow !" 

After  supper  Skinny  hurried  to  the  Golden  Rule 
store.  It  was  still  open. 

"Give  me  a  white  shirt — number  fifteen,"  he  said 
to  the  clerk ;  "and  be  blamed  sure  it's  the  right  size 
— they  ain't  worth  a  cuss  if  they're  too  big!" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A  GIRL  LIKE  YOU 

ALONE  rider  guided  his  horse  in  the  early 
night,  among  the  black  lavas,  on  the  desolate 
desert  near  Capaline,  the  dead  volcano.  He  rode 
to  the  south,  in  the  direction  of  the  Cimarron.  Si- 
lently, steadily,  like  a  dark  shadow,  the  broncho 
picked  his  way  among  the  fields  of  fire-blistered  rock 
and  held  his  course,  unerringly,  through  the  starlit 
gloom  hanging  over  the  earth  before  the  late  moon 
should  flash  its  silver  disk  above  the  sand-hills  miles 
to  the  east. 

The  rider  was  the  Ramblin'  Kid;  the  little  horse 
— Captain  Jack. 

For  a  week,  following  the  fight  in  Eagle  Butte, 
the  Ramblin'  Kid  had  found  shelter  in  the  hut  of 
"Indian  Jake" — a  hermit  Navajo  who,  long  ago, 
turned  his  face  toward  the  flood  of  white  civilization 
rolling  over  the  last  pitiful  remnants  of  his  tribe 
and  drifted  far  toward  the  land  of  the  rising  sun. 
Among  the  scenes  of  desolation  around  the  grimly 
cold  volcano,  alone,  the  old  Indian  made  his  last 
stand,  and  in  a  rude  cabin,  beside  a  tiny  spring  that 
seeped  from  under  the  black  rock  on  the  mountain- 

309 


'310  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

side,  lived  in  splendid  isolation — silent,  brooding, 
desiring  only  to  be  left  in  peace  with  his  few  ponies, 
his  small  herd  of  cattle  and  the  memories  and  tra- 
ditions of  his  people. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  and  the  lonely  Navajo  were 
friends  since  the  Ramblin'  Kid  could  remember. 

The  aged  Indian's  face  was  pitted  with  horrible 
scars — marks  of  the  same  disease  that  had  cost  the 
wandering  cowboy  his  father  and  left  him,  years 
ago,  an  orphan,  almost  worshiped,  because  of  the 
sacrifice  his  parent  had  made  fighting  the  epidemic 
among  the  tribes  of  the  Southwest. 

Often  the  "Young  Whirlwind" — the  name  by 
which  the  Indians  knew  the  Ramblin'  Kid  and  which 
old  Jake  himself  always  called  the  cowboy — spent 
a  night,  sometimes  days,  with  his  stoical  friend 
among  the  lavas. 

To  him  the  cabin  door  was  always  open. 

As  Captain  Jack,  followed  by  the  bullets  from  the 
marshal's  revolver,  dashed  madly  down  the  street  of 
Eagle  Butte,  instinctively  the  Ramblin'  Kid  had 
turned  the  stallion  toward  the  hut  of  the  old 
Navajo. 

The  fugitive  cowboy  believed  Sabota  was  dead. 

Naturally  the  law  would  demand  vengeance,  even 
though  the  brutal  Greek  had  deserved  to  die. 
Posses,  undoubtedly,  would  scour  the  country, 
searching  for  his  slayer.  The  Quarter  Circle  KT 
would  be  watched. 

There  was  no  regret  in  the  heart  of  the  Ramblin' 


A  GIRL  LIKE  YOU  311 

Kid.  Instead  he  felt  a  strange  elation.  With  his 
fists  and  heels  he  had  beaten  the  giant  Greek  into 
a  lifeless  mass! 

"Ign'rant — savage — stupid— brute !' "  he  mut- 
tered as  Captain  Jack  sped  from  the  scene  of  the 
fight ;  "I  reckon  she  was  pretty  near  right!" 

At  gray  dawn  he  swung  down  from  the  back  of 
the  little  stallion  at  the  door  of  the  Indian's  hut. 

Old  Jake  asked  no  questions. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  himself  volunteered : 

"Killed  a  man — Sabota — got  to  lay  low,  Jake — 
some  three,  four,  five  days!  Then  I  go — south- 
Mexico  !" 

"The  Young  Whirlwind  had  cause?"  the  Navajo 
grunted  sententiously. 

"Sure — plenty!"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  laughed,  slip- 
ping his  hand  to  his  breast  pocket  and  caressing  the 
pink  satin  garter. 

"It  is  good,"  the  Indian  said.  "The  Navajo  will 
watch !" 

For  seven  days  the  Ramblin'  Kid  rested,  securely, 
in  the  lonely  hut  among  the  lavas  and  "pot-holes" 
of  the  desert.  Then  he  saddled  Captain  Jack  and 
when  the  full  shadow  of  night  had  settled  over  the 
desolation  about  him  mounted  the  little  broncho  and 
turned  him  to  the  south,  in  the  direction  of  the 
Cimarron,  toward  the  Quarter  Circle  KT,  where  the 
Gold  Dust  maverick  waited,  alone,  in  the  circular 
corral. 


312  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

Carolyn  June  could  not  sleep.  The  night  was 
more  than  half  gone  and  still  she  sat  on  the  front 
porch  and  watched  the  gradual  spread  of  a  misty, 
silvery  sheen  over  the  brow  of  the  bench  and  the 
distant  peaks  of  the  shadowy  Costejo  range  as  the 
pale  moon,  in  its  last  half,  lifted  itself  above  the 
sand-hills  at  the  gap  through  which  the  Cimarron 
tumbled  out  of  the  valley. 

Old  Heck  and  Ophelia  had  retired  hours  ago. 

The  Quarter  Circle  KT  was  sleeping.  From  the 
meadows  the  heavy  odor  of  wilted  alfalfa  hung  on 
the  night  air  as  the  dew  sprinkled  the  windrows  of 
new-cut  hay. 

A  strange  restlessness  filled  the  heart  of  the  girl. 

Something  seemed  to  be  holding  her  in  a  tense, 
relentless  grip.  She  had  no  desire  to  seek  her  room. 
Indeed,  she  felt  that  the  air  of  the  house  would  stifle 
her.  She  arose  and  strolled  idly  through  the  gate, 
past  the  bunk-house  where  Skinny,  Pedro  and  the 
hay  hands  snored  peacefully,  as  she  wandered  aim- 
lessly through  the  slanting  moonlight  down  to  the 
circular  corral. 

The  Gold  Dust  maverick  seemed  to  reflect  the 
girl's  'own  uneasy  mood. 

The  filly  moved  with  quick  nervous  strides  about 
the  corral.  As  Carolyn  June  leaned  against  the  bars 
and  stretched  out  her  hand  the  mare  whinnied 
softly,  tossed  her  head,  nosed  an  instant  the  white 
fingers  and  trotted  in  a  circle  around  the  enclosure. 

"What's  the  matter,  Heart  o'  Gold?"  Carolyn 


A  Universal-Jewel  Production, 

NO  EXPLANATION  NECESSARY. 


1  he  kamblin*  Kid. 


A  GIRL  LIKE  YOU 


June  laughed  sympathetically,  "can't  you  sleep, 
either?" 

In  the  shed  at  the  side  of  the  corral,  on  the  spot 
where,  that  first  morning,  the  Ramblin'  Kid's  saddle 
had  rested  and  the  cowboy  slept,  Carolyn  June's  own 
riding  gear  was  lying.  She  glanced  at  the  outfit. 
For  a  second  she  fancied  she  saw  again  the  slender 
form  stretched  in  the  sha.dow  upon  the  ground  while 
a  pair  of  black  inscrutable  eyes  looked  with  unfath- 
omable melancholy  up  into  her  own. 

"Seein'  things  !"  she  laughed  jerkily,  with  a  little 
catch  in  her  throat.  "I'll  ride  it  off  !" 

Quickly  she  stepped  over,  picked  up  the  saddle, 
bridle  and  blanket,  returned  to  the  corral  gate, 
swung  it  open  and  entered. 

The  Gold  Dust  maverick  came  to  her,  as  if  eager, 
herself,  to  get  out  into  the  night. 

A  moment  later  Carolyn  June  was  in  the  saddle 
and  the  mare,  dancing  lightly,  pranced  out  of  the 
gate.  She  turned  swiftly  toward  the  grade  that  led 
out  to  the  bench  and  to  Eagle  Butte,  They  had  al- 
most reached  the  foot  of  the  grade,  when  some  im- 
pulse caused  Carolyn  June  to  whirl  the  filly  about 
and  gallop  back  past  the  barn  and  down  the  lane 
toward  the  Cimarron. 

As  the  feet  of  the  outlaw  mare  splashed  into  the 
water  at  the  lower  ford  the  Ramblin'  Kid  rode  past 
the  corner  of  the  upland  pasture  fence  and  stopped 
Captain  Jack  on  the  brink  of  the  ridge  looking  down 
at  the  crossing.  Below  him  the  river  whirled  ia 


314  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

dark  eddies  under  the  overhanging  curtains  of  cot- 
tonwoods  and  willows;  the  Quarter  Circle  KT  lay 
in  the  hollow  of  the  valley,  like  a  faint  etching 
of  silent  restfulness;  through  the  tops  of  the  trees 
a  white  splash  of  moonlight  struck  on  the  smooth 
level  surface  of  the  treacherous  quicksand  bar  that 
had  drawn  Old  Blue  down  to  an  agonizing  death 
and  from  which,  scarcely  a  month  ago,  the  Ramblin* 
Kid  had  dragged  Carolyn  June. 

This,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  believed,  was  his  last  long 
look  at  the  Quarter  Circle  KT. 

He  would  ride  down  to  the  circular  corral,  turn 
out  the  Gold  Dust  maverick — give  her  again  to  the 
range  and  freedom — and  while  the  unconscious 
sleepers  at  the  ranch  dreamed  he  would  pass  on, 
silently,  toward  the  south  and  Mexico  should  throw 
about  him  her  black  arms  of  mystery! 

For  a  while  he  sat  and  gazed  down  on  the  shad- 
owy scene  while  his  mind  throbbed  with  memory  of 
the  incidents  of  the  last  few  weeks.  He  drew  the 
pink  satin  garter  from  his  pocket,  looked  at  it  a 
long  moment — suddenly  crushed  it  tightly  in  his 
hand  while  his  eyes  closed  as  if  renouncing  a  vision 
that  had  come  before  them — then  carefully,  that  the 
dainty  thing  might  not  be  lost,  replaced  it  in  the 
pocket  that  was  over  his  heart. 

At  last  he  swung  to  the  ground  and  tightened  the 
front  cinch  of  his  saddle. 

As  he  pulled  the  leather  into  place  the  sound  of 
nervous  hoofs  kicking  the  gravel  on  the  grade  that 


A  GIRL  LIKE  YOU  315 

led  to  the  ridge  on  which  he  stood  shattered  the 
silence  around  him.  The  Ramblin'  Kid  whirled  and 
faced  the  direction  in  which  the  approaching  horse 
would  appear.  His  hand  dropped  to  his  gun  and 
without  raising  the  weapon  from  his  hip  he  leveled 
it  to  cover  the  turn  in  the  road  a  few  feet  away. 

The  waxy  mane  of  the  outlaw  filly  rocked  into 
view  as  she  sprang  up  and  around  the  turn  on  to  the 
ridge. 

On  the  maverick's  back,  bareheaded,  her  brown 
hair  tumbled  about  her  neck,  was  Carolyn  June. 

Captain  Jack  pricked  forward  his  ears  at  the 
sound  of  hoofs  and  as  the  beautiful  mare  leaped 
around  the  turn  and  appeared  above  the  bank  of 
the  grade  the  little  roan  squealed  a  nicker  of  recog- 
nition. The  filly  sprang  forward,  swerved  to  the 
side  of  the  stallion,  and  with  an  answering  whinny 
stopped. 

"Oh!"  Carolyn  June  gasped,  as  the  horses  met 
and  she  saw  the  Ramblin'  Kid,  his  gun  still  in  his 
hand,  standing  beside  Captain  Jack. 

There  was  a  brief,  questioning  silence. 

"What  th'  hell !"  he  breathed. 

"What  the— 'hell'— yourself!"  she  laughed  ner- 
vously. "Is — this — is  this  a  hold-up?" 

"What  are  you  doin'  here — this  time  of  night — - 
an'  on  that  filly?"  he  asked  without  heeding  her 
question. 

"I'm  riding  that— this—  filly !"  Carolyn  June  shot 
back  independently.  "And  what  are  you  doing  here 


316  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

- — at  this  time  of —  Oh,"  she  added,  before  he  could 
answer,  "I — I — believe  my  saddle's  slipping!"  and 
she  swung  lightly  from  the  back  of  the  outlaw  mare. 

"That  filly'll  kill  you,"  he  began. 

"She  will  not!"  Carolyn  June  interrupted  with  a 
pout.  "I — I — guess  you're  not  the  only  one,  Mister 
'Nighthawk/  that  knows  the  way  to  the  heart  of  a 
horse!  If  you  were  just  as  wise  about — "  but  she 
stopped,  her  blush  hidden  as  she  turned  her  back  to 
the  rising  moon. 

"They  was  made  for  each  other!"  the  Ramblin' 
Kid  muttered  to  himself.  Then  he  spoke  aloud :  "I 
reckon  you  know,"  he  said  slowly,  "why  I'm  rid- 
in'  at  night — about  me  killin'  Sabota — I'm  leav- 
in'— " 

"But  Sabota  isn't  dead,"  she  interrupted  again. 
"You  don't  need  to  go  away !" 

"Sabota  ain't  dead !"  the  Ramblin'  Kid  exclaimed. 
"Then  I'll  go  back  to  Eagle  Butte  instead  of — Mex- 
ico!" 

"Why  ?"  Carolyn  June  asked. 

"To  finish  th'  job!"  and  his  voice  was  danger- 
ously soft. 

"You  can't  finish  it,"  she  laughed.  "He  isn't  in 
Eagle  Butte !  The  Greek  has  gone  away  and — well, 
it — it — was  a  good  'job' — good  enough  the  way  you 
did  it !  I — I — don't  want  you  'teetotally'  to  kill  him 
— clear,  all  the  way  dead,"  she  stammered.  "The 
way  it  is  you — you — won't  have  to — leave !" 


A  GIRL  LIKE  YOU  317 

"What's  th'  difference?"  he  said  dully.  "It's  time 
I  was  ramblin'  anyhow !" 

"Is  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Listen,  Ramblin'  Kid,"  she  broke  in,  "I— I- 
know  all  about  everything — about  what  started  the 
fight-" 

"You  do?"  looking  quickly  and  keenly  at  her. 
"Who  told  you?" 

"Skinny,"  she  answered;  "he  saw  it.  Said  it  was 
a  pale  pink  ribbon  or  something  with  a  little  silver 
'do- funny'  on  it !"  she  finished  with  a  laugh. 

"I — I — reckon  you  want  it  back,  then?"  the  Ram- 
blin' Kid  said,  reaching  to  his  left  breast.  "You 
wouldn't  want — " 

"Did  I  say  I  wanted  it?"  Carolyn  June  questioned 
naively. 

"And  I  know,"  she  hurried  on,  "about  you  being 
drugged  the  day  of  the  race!  Why  didn't  you  say 
you  were  sick?  We — we — thought  you  were 
drunk!" 

"Nobody  asked  me,"  he  answered  without  in- 
terest. 

"Does  everybody  have  to — to — ask  you  every- 
thing?" she  questioned  suggestively.  "Don't  you 
cver — ever — 'ask'  anybody  anything  yourself?" 

"What  are  you  tryin'  to  do?"  he  said  almost 
brutally,  "play  with  me  like  you  played  with  them 
other  blamed  idiots  th'  night  of  th'  dance?" 


'318  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

"You're  mean — "  she  started  to  say-. 

"Am  I?"  he  interrupted,  and  spoke  witli  sudden 
intenseness.  "Maybe  you  think  I  am.  Maybe  you 
think  a  lot  of  things.  Maybe  you  think  God  put 
them  brown  eyes  in  your  face  just  so  you  could  coax 
men,  with  a  look  out  of  them,  to  love  you  an'  then 
laugh  because  th'  damned  fools  do  it !" 

"You're  unfair !"  she  replied.  "I  was  just  paying 
the  boys  back  the  night  of  the  dance  for — for — 
'framing'  up  on  Ophelia  and  me  the  way  they  did !" 

For  a  moment  they  looked  squarely  into  each 
other's  eyes.  Captain  Jack  and  the  Gold  Dust  mav- 
erick nosed  each  other  over  the  shoulders  of  their 
dismounted  riders. 

"Oh,  well,  it  don't  matter,"  the  Ramblin'  Kid 
finally  said,  wearily;  "it  don't  matter,  you're  what 
you  are  an'  I  reckon  you  can't  help  it !" 

Carolyn  June  said  nothing. 

"I — I — was  goin'  to  turn  th'  filly  back  to  th' 
range,"  he  continued  in  the  same  emotionless  voice, 
"but — well,  you  can  have  her — I'll  trade  her  to  you 
for — for — th'  thing  that  started  th'  fight.  You  can 
ride  th'  maverick  till  you  go  back  east — " 

"I'm  not  going  back  east,"  she  said  in  a  hurt 
tone,  "at  least  not  for  a  long  time.  Dad  is  going 
to — to — get  me  a  stepmother !  He's  going  to  marry 
some  female  person  and  he  doesn't  need  me  so  I'm 
going  to  live — most  of  the  time — with  Uncle  Josiah 
and  Ophelia!  Anyhow  I — I — like  it  out  west — or 
that  is — I  did  like  it — " 


A  GIRL  LIKE  YOU  319 

There  was  another  little  period  of  silence  between 
them. 

"Ramblin5  Kid,"  Carolyn  June  spoke  suddenly 
and  very  softly,  "Ramblin'  Kid— why— why  do  you 
hate  me?" 

"Me  hate  you?"  he  answered  slowly.  "I  don't 
hate  you — I  hate  myself !" 

"Yourself?"  with  a  questioning  lift  of  her  voice. 

"Yes,  myself!"  he  replied  with  a  short,  bitter 
laugh.  "Why  shouldn't  I — bein'  an  'ign'rant,  sav- 
age, stupid  brute !'  " 

Carolyn  June  flinched  as  he  repeated  the  cruel 
words  she  herself  had  spoken,  it  seemed,  now  so 
long  ago. 

"You  are  right !"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  while  a 
ripple  of  quivering,  mischievous  laughter  leaped 
from  her  lips  and  she  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  his 
arm.  "Oh,  Ramblin'  Kid,  you  are  indeed  an 
'ign'rant,  savage,  stupid  brute !'  You  are  'ign'rant,' ' 
she  continued  while  he  looked  at  her  with  a  puzzled 
expression  in  his  eyes,  "of  the  ways  of  a  woman's 
heart;  you  are  'savage' — in  the  defense  of  a  wom- 
an's honor ;  you  are  'stupid' — not  to  see  that  it  is  the 
man  a  woman  wants  and  not  the  thin  social  veneer ; 
you  are  a  'brute' — an  utter  brute,  Ramblin'  Kid- 
to — to — make  a  girl  almost  tell  you — tell  you — that 
she — she — " 

The  sentence  was  not  finished. 

The  Ramblin'  Kid  caught  her  by  both  shoulders. 
He  pushed  her  back — arm's  length — and  held  her 


,320  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

while  the  clean  moonlight  poured  down  oiv  her  up- 
turned face  and  his  black  eyes  searched  her  own  as 
though  to  read  her  very  soul. 

An  instant  she  was  almost  frightened  by  the 
•  agony  that  was  in  his  face. 

Then  she  opened  her  mouth  and  laughed — such  a 
'laugh  as  comes  only  from  the  throat  of  a  woman 
ttvhen  love  is  having  its  way ! 

""By  God!"  he  whispered,  his  voice  hoarse  with 
passion,  his  hot  breath  fanning  the  brown  hair  on  her 
forehead ;  "this  has  gone  far  enough !  I'll  tell  you 
what  you  want  me  to  say — I'll  say  it !  And  it's  the 
truth — I  love  you — love  you — love  you!  Yes!" 
And  he  shook  her  toward  him.  "Do  you  hear  me? 
I  love  you — love  you — so  much  it  hurts!  Now 
laugh !  Now  make  fun  of  me !  I  know  I'm  a  fool. 
I  know  where  I  stand!  I  know  I  don't  belong  in 
your  crowd — I  ain't  fit  to  mix  with  'em !  I  ain't  been 
raised  like  you  was  raised.  You  don't  need  to  tell 
me  that!  I  know  it  already!  I  know  there's  some- 
thin'  a  man  has  to  have  besides  what  he  gets  on  th' 
open  range  among  th'  cattle — an'  th'  bronchos — an' 
th'  rattlesnakes — he's  got  to  be  ground  in  th'  mill 
of  schoolin' — of  books;  he's  got  to  be  hammered 
into  shape  under  th'  heels  of  'civilization' ;  he's  got 
to  be  trained  to  jump  through  and  roll  over  an'  know 
which  fork  to  eat  with  before  a  girl  like  you — " 

His  hands  relaxed,  but  before  his  fingers  loosened 
their  grip  on  her  shoulders  Carolyn  June's  own  soft 
palms  reached  up  and  caught  the  man's  sun-tanned 


A  GIRL  LIKE  YOU  321 

cheeks  between  them.  Her  eyes  burned  back  into 
his  own.  Once  more  the  laugh  rippled  from  the  full 
pulsing  throat. 

"Ramblin'  Kid,  oh,  Ramblin'  Kid,"  she  mur- 
mured, while  the  long  lashes  lifted  over  brown  pools 
of  tenderness,  "a  man — my  man — does  not  need  to 
be  or  to  know  all  of  those  things,  any  of  those 
things,  before  a  girl  like  me — " 

He  crushed  her  to  him  and  stopped  the  words  on 
her  lips. 

"My  God — don't  fool  me — be  sure  you  know!" 
he  cried,  his  whole  body  quivering  with  the  intensity 
of  his  feelings;  "don't  tell  me  you  love  me — unless 
you  mean  it !  I  can  stand  to  love  you — without  hope 
• — in  silence — alone !  But  I  can't — an'  I  swear  I 
won't,  be  lifted  up  to  Paradise  just  to  be  dropped 
down  again  into  the  depths  of  hell !  Don't  say  you 
love  me  unless  you  know  it  is  all  love !  Half  love 
ain't  love — it's  a  lie!  An'  love  ain't  to  play  with! 
Don't  insult  God  by  makin'  a  joke  of  th'  thing  He 
made  an'  planted  in  th'  hearts  of  all  Creation  to  hold 
th'  Universe  together." 

"Ramblin'  Kid,"  she  whispered  softly,  "God  him- 
self is  looking  down  into  my  heart !" 

He  smothered  her  mouth  with  his  own — they 
drank  each  other  in,  their  souls  mingled  in  a  mad- 
sense-reeling,  time-defying  pressure  of  lips! 

It  was  their  hour,  as  was  the  next  and  yet  the  one 
that  followed  that. 

When  the  old-rose  of  dawn  melted  the  gray  above 


322  THE  RAMBLIN'  KID 

the  sand-hills  behind  them  and  the  white  moon  was 
fading  in  the  zenith  above  the  Kiowa;  when  the 
cottonwoods  beside  the  Cimarron  began  to  shake 
their  leaves  in  the  morning  breeze  that  tripped  across 
the  valley;  when  the  low  buildings  of  the  Quarter 
Circle  KT  silhouetted  against  the  bench  beyond  the 
meadows;  when  the  smooth  surface  of  the  beach  of 
quicksand  under  which  the  body  of  Old  Blue  was 
hidden  began  to  look  smoother  yet  and  still  more 
firm,  the  Ramblin'  Kid  and  Carolyn  June  parted. 

"I'm  goin'  away,"  he  said ;  "I'm  goin'  away,  Car- 
olyn June,  but  I'm  goin'  for  another  reason  now. 
I'm  goin'  away  an'  make  myself  so  you'll  never  have 
a  chance  to  be  ashamed  of  me!  I'm  goin'  away  an' 
learn  how  to  talk  without  cussin'  'most  every  other 
word — I'm  goin'  away  an'  get  that  polish  I  know 
women  love  in  men  th'  same  as  they  love  their  own 
shoes  to  be  shiny  an'  their  own  dresses  to  be  soft  an' 
dainty !  When  I've  got  that  I'll  come  back !  I  ain't 
goin'  to  Mexico.  I'm  going  to  ride  into  that  world 
that  you  come  out  of  an'  when  I'm  so  you'll  be- proud 
to  walk  in  that  world  with  me — when  I'm  so  you 
won't  need  to  apologize  for  me  in  Hartville  or  any 
other  place,  I'm  comin'  back  an'  a  preacher  can  O.  K. 
th'  bargain  you  an'  me  have  made!  Will  you  keep 
faith  an'  be  true,  Carolyn  June?  Will  you  keep 
faith  an'  be  true — ?  Will  you  be  waitin'  ?" 

"I'll  be  waiting,"  she  whispered,  " — and  keep 
faith  and  be  true !" 

And  he  rode  away  into  the  face  of  the  red  glow, 


A  GIRL  LIKE  YOU  323 

rising  above  the  sand-hills.  He  rode  away — to  meet 
the  morning  sun — hidden  yet  behind  the  eastern 
horizon — to  conquer  himself,  to  master  the  ways  of 
men,  in  the  world  that  lay  beyond ! 

Carolyn  June  watched  him  go. 

Then  she  guided  the  outlaw  filly  down  the  grade, 
across  the  Cimarron  and  along  the  lane,  in  the  gently 
stirring  dawn,  back  to  the  still  sleeping  Quarter 
Circle  KT.  In  her  heart  was  a  song;  in  her  eyes  a 
new  light ;  in  her  soul  a  great  peace — on  her  lips,  a 
smile.  She  carried  in  her  bosom  their  secret — hers 
and  the  Ramblin'  Kid's — and  she  knew  he  would 
return,  for  he  would  not  lie. 


THE  END 


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Thrilling  adventures  in  the  Far  Northland. 
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A  PRINCESS  OF  1VURS 

Forty-three  million  miles  from  the  earth  —  a  success'on 
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whom  all  Mars  worships  and  reveres. 

THE  WARLORD  OF  MARS 

Old  acquaintances,  made  in  the  two  other  stories,  reap- 
pear, Tars  Tarkas,  Tardos  Mors  and  others.  There  is  a 
happy  ending  to  the  story  in  the  union  of  the  Warlord, 
the  title  conferred  upon  John  Carter,  with  Dejah  Thoris, 

THUVIA,  MATD  OF  MARS 

The  fourth  volume  of  the  series.  The  story  centers 
around  the  adventures  of  Caithoris,  the  son  of  John  Car- 
ter and  Thuvia,  daughter  of  a  Martian  Emperor. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP.  PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK 


RUBY   M.   AYRE'S    NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.       Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list. 

RICHARD  CHATTERTON 

A  fascinating  story  in  which  love  and  jealousy  play 
strange  tricks  with  women's  souls. 

A  BACHELOR  HUSBAND 

Can  a  woman  love  two  men  at  the  same  time  ? 

In  its  solving  of  this  particular  variety  of  triangle  "  A 
Bachelor  Husband  "  will  particularly  interest,  and  strangely 
enough,  without  one  shock  to  the  most  conventional  minded. 

THE  SCAR 

With  tine  comprehension  and  insight  the  author  shows  a 
terrific  contrast  between  the  woman  whose  love  was  of  the 
flesh  and  one  whose  love  was  of  the  spirit. 

THE  MARRIAGE  OF  BARRY  WICKLOW 

Here  is  a  man  and  woman  who,  marrying  for  love,  yet  try 
to  build  their  wedded  life  upon  a  gospel  of  hate  for  each 
other  and  yet  win  back  to  a  greater  love  for  each  other  in 
the  end. 

THE  UPHILL  ROAD 

The  heroine  of  this  story  was  a  consort  of  thieves.  The 
man  was  fine,  clean,  fresh  from  the  West.  It  is  a  story  of 
strength  and  passion. 

WINDS  OF  THE  WORLD 

Jill,  a  poor  little  typist,  marries  the  great  Henry  Sturgess 
and  inherits  millions,  but  not  happiness.  Then  at  last — but 
we  must  leave  that  to  Ruby  M.  Ayres  to  tell  you  as  only 
she  can. 

THE  SECOND  HONEYMOON 

In  this  story  the  author  has  produced  a  book  which  no 
one  who  has  loved  or  hopes  to  love  can  afford  to  miss. 
The  story  fairly  leaps  from  climax  to  climax. 

THE  PHANTOM  LOVER 

Have  you  not  often  heard  of  someone  being  in  love  with 
love  rather  than  the  person  they  believed  the  object  of  their 
affections  ?  That  was  Esther  !  But  she  passes  through  the 
crisis  into  a  deep  and  profound  love. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,         PUBLISHERS,         NEW  YORK 


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